


Learning to Dance

by ButterflyGhost



Series: Learning to Dance series [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 106,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is in response to Vicki's prompt, in which she asked for Fraser/Kowalski in a romantic relationship, raising a child. Just a word of warning to my gen readers. The boys are definitely together, and sometimes things happen between lovers. I couldn't help it, honestly... they just enjoyed themselves! So... if you don't like slash, don't read on.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Catherine Benton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vic32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vic32/gifts).



> This is in response to Vicki's prompt, in which she asked for Fraser/Kowalski in a romantic relationship, raising a child. Just a word of warning to my gen readers. The boys are definitely together, and sometimes things happen between lovers. I couldn't help it, honestly... they just enjoyed themselves! So... if you don't like slash, don't read on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria plays a game, there is a deposit at the 27th Precinct, and Fraser receives unexpected news.

“Stop crying.” Mommy sounded stern, angry even, and Cathy stopped crying. Her nose was still running though. She tried not to sniff, and rubbed her little arm under her nose, hoping Mommy wouldn't notice she was snothering. Mommy didn't like that.

 

“How many times have I told you to use a hankie? God's sake...” Mommy knelt down in front of the wheelchair, pulled out a tissue, and rubbed her face roughly. Cathy knew by now not to pull faces. 

 

For a moment, Mommy's face lost its coldness, and something flickered behind her eyes. Her left hand, the one not holding the tissue, reached out, and stroked her cheek, gently. “I'm sorry, honey, you know I love you, don't you?”

 

“Yes, Mommy.”

 

“Good girl. Well, we're going on a trip. Mommy's going to play a game, okay? I'm going to dress up to look like somebody else. Will you like that?”

 

Cathy looked across at her mother, still crouching in front of her chair. Mommy was the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world. She had long curling hair, the colour of the black coffee she made in the mornings, that tasted so bitter when she'd allowed Cathy to sip it that one time. She had skin the colour of her favourite ice cream, and eyes the colour of the sky, with just a bit of cloud in it. She didn't like it when Mommy dressed up as someone else. It was scary. It was like she was all alone, and some stranger was looking after her.

 

“You're so pretty Mommy. Can't you stay you? I don't like it when you play dress up.”

 

Mommy's face clouded. “Well, I've got to play dress up, so get used to it.”

 

“Yes, Mommy.” Cathy knew better than to argue.

 

If Mommy was playing dress up that meant they were moving again, and Cathy would just have to be good. She'd have to wear diapers all day again, because all the travelling meant they would have trouble getting to decent toilets. She hated wearing diapers. She wasn't a baby. She was a big girl now. But... maybe when they arrived at their new place, Mommy could stop running. She knew Mommy was running from something. Whatever it was, it must be really bad. So she would be a good girl and not upset Mommy. When they got to where they were going, Mommy would relax a little bit. She was always happy for a little bit when they got to a new town. Cathy liked it when Mommy was happy.

 

Mommy was still looking at her, with those pretty eyes of hers, and suddenly she smiled. “Good girl,” she said, and gave her a kiss on her forehead. And even though Cathy was sad that they were leaving, she felt happy. Because sometimes Mommy hated her, and sometimes Mommy loved her. And it was the best feeling in the whole wide world when Mommy loved her. 

 

She put her arms up, round Mommy's head, round her soft hair, and kissed her back. “I love you, Mommy.”

 

“I love you too, sweetheart. I love you too.”  
…

 

“Fraser!” Ray gave an exasperated chuckle, and poked his partner in the ribs. “That's not how you do it.”

 

“Well, I'm sorry Ray,” Fraser said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “but I am trying my hardest.”

 

“When you dance you're not supposed to 'try hard', you're supposed to let go.” Ray demonstrated by relaxing liquidly into the music, and shimmying around Fraser, with a sly grin on his face. Fraser turned on the spot, watching him dance, with an appreciative expression. “You know, like this, Frase...relax, let down your guard...”

 

“The only dances I know are very formal,” Fraser replied, trying (and failing) to maintain the fiction that he wasn't watching Ray's every movement like a hungry hawk. “I do know the steps to several...”

 

“Yeah, yeah... and first time we danced the tango I thought, wow, maybe he can dance... then we pop on some jazz and you're back to being a stick again. For nearly a year now I've been trying to teach you how to, you know," Ray winked at him, cheekily, "move your Canadian butt. How come you can dance the tango, but you can't do...” he smoothed his hands over his torso provocatively, “this?” 

 

“The tango has a formalised ritual, which does help... and some other attractions...” Fraser was blushing, and his tongue kept sneaking out over his lip as he watched Ray swaying to the rhythm of the music.

 

“Yeah, what attractions are those?”

 

“Well, close body contact, and...” Fraser ran out of things to say as Ray closed the circle in which he had been dancing, and put his arms around him.

 

“Like this,” Ray murmured, eyes half closed.

 

“Yes,” Fraser whispered, “like this.”

 

“Well, we'll just have to think of another kind of dance. What do you say, Frase? Wanna do the horizontal tango with me?”

 

Fraser's blush rose to his ears, but his grin was wicked as he chuckled low in his throat. “Thank you kindly, Ray. I thought you'd never ask...”  
…

 

At first Frannie thought she was only imagining hearing a kid crying. She'd been thinking a lot about children ever since... well, ever since she got pregnant. She smiled to herself again, secretly, hand resting on her still flat belly. She'd have to tell Ma at some point, but... Well, she'd have a major freak out, of course. Unwed mother and all that. But... Ma was good with babies. Frannie was good with babies. It would be fantastic, in the end. Even with sleepless nights, teething, and all the rest of it...

 

Good Lord (hey so Fraser had rubbed of on her a bit) her imagination was really loud today... she could swear she heard a kid crying... She snapped out of her daydream. A kid really WAS crying. She shoved her chair back, left the paper work on her desk, and went searching for the crying child.

 

“Hey honey,” she said, when she found her. “How you doing?”

 

The poor kid just looked at her, and didn't say anything. Frannie got down on her knees. Awh, Jeez... the little girl was in a wheelchair. Pretty thing too, although she looked so tired, and maybe a little ill. Paper pale, all dark curls, and such a lovely face.

 

“I want my Mommy.”

 

“What's your Mommy called?”

 

“I don't know. She's got lots of names.” The girl sniffed, and pulled herself together, remarkably quickly for such a little child. Frannie cringed as she remembered being that young herself. When you had a parent who was generous with the fists you learned to stop crying very quickly indeed. This child looked like she was used to switching off her feelings. God... who would hit such a little thing? Frannie didn't know how she knew, but she guessed... well, the worst.

 

The little girl rubbed her eyes, then started to count on her fingers. “Sometimes Mommy is Anne Higgins, Ruth Cohen, Gillian Benton, and...” her voice trailed off sadly. “But I don't know her real name. Though I think it's Benton. It's her favourite surname. And it's what she put on my birth serty thing.” 

 

Ah, Frannie thought. Witness protection, or a criminal on the run. Whoever the bitch was, it seemed like she'd just dumped her daughter. Maybe she had her reasons but still... she could have asked for help. You don't just abandon your child. Again, Frannie's hand rested on her as yet unborn baby, and her heart went out to the little girl. “What's your name, honey?”

 

“Cathy,” she said. “Catherine.”

 

“Ah, so shall we say Catherine Benton then?”

 

“That would be nice,” the little girl said, formally.

 

“Well, I'm Frannie Vecchio.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Frannie Vecchio,” Cathy replied, and put out her hand. Surprised at the kid's old fashioned manners Frannie took the little fingers in her own and gave a gentle shake. “Now, let's see how we can help you, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Jeez Louise, this was gonna be one of those cases that break your heart, thought Frannie, as she carefully wheeled Cathy toward the social worker's offices.  
…

 

Fraser was tidying up the filing in the outpost (really, the rookie they had sent up to 'help' him had the organisational skills of a drunken chimpanzee) when the phone rang. Fraser slid the papers into the correct place, and shut the drawer of the filing cabinet. Neville never picked up on time. Holding the phone between his head and his shoulder Fraser continued to finger his way through outstanding paper work, while, with half his attention, he replied to the voice on the other side. It still felt odd to mention his new rank... “Corporal Fraser speaking,” he concluded his spiel, and dropped the papers back into the in-tray, sitting upright, and taking the phone in his hand.

 

“Corporal Fraser is it now,” Welsh's voice came through, amused and friendly. “Shoulda guessed you'd get promoted after the Muldoon case.”

 

“Lovely to hear from you, Sir,” Fraser replied, warmly. “How are things in Chicago?”

 

“Well... that's what I'm phoning about. There's been a rather...” He paused for a moment. “A rather interesting development. It relates directly to you, and... I thought I should be the one to tell you.”

 

“What?” Fraser discovered that he was standing automatically, back straight, as though he was on parade. 

 

There was an awkward pause. “Awh, hell...” Welsh sounded frustrated, though whether with himself or something else Fraser couldn't tell. “I thought this would be easier to say... shouldn't have volunteered...”

 

“What is it, Sir?”

 

“Well, uhm... someone dropped off something for you at the station. It's... well... not something. Someone. A little girl. There was a note, and a bunch of medical records and... we've done some DNA tests to confirm, and... well...” There was another long pause. “Fraser, she's your daughter. Victoria left her at the station, with a note.” Another long silence, this time from Fraser. “You still there? Corporal? You okay?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Fraser murmured. A child? He was a father? “How... what is she like?”

 

“Well, she's bright as a button. Of course, I suppose she would be smart with you as a Dad. And I understand her mother was also very clever...”

 

“Yes,” Fraser confirmed, vaguely. His brain was on autopilot. He couldn't quite hear what he was saying. “From her prison records it's obvious Victoria's in the first percentile for...”

 

“Never mind that,” Welsh interrupted, brusquely. “Yeah, she's smart, she's really pretty. Looks like both her parents. Got her mother's hair. But... Fraser, I'm sorry. She's in a wheelchair.”

 

“What...” Fraser's voice trailed off again, and he sank back down onto the edge of his desk. If it hadn't been there he'd have collapsed on the floor. He leant forward, put his hand over his eyes. “She's in... what's wrong with her?”

 

“She has spina bifida. Right now, the Vecchios are looking after her, but social services are sniffing. I thought you should know in case you wanted to... take on parental responsibility?”

 

“In case I wanted to? Of course I want to!” Fraser was practically stuttering in his urgency. For a moment he understood how Ray felt when he couldn't find the right word. “Don't let them... I mean I'll... social services? I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't...” He closed his eyes and breathed. Calm down... “Don't let social services get her. I'm coming down on the next flight.”

 

“I thought you would, Corporal,” Welsh's voice radiated approval. “We'll be waiting for you.”

 

Oh, good Lord. Fraser put the phone back into its cradle, hand shaking. A daughter, all alone, in a wheelchair... and...

 

He groaned, and closed his eyes. What sort of a father was he? He had forgotten to ask her name.


	2. Out of the Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser has a meltdown, and Ray comes through for him, Frannie comforts Cathy, and the boys head off to meet their daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Sexual Content

“Hey, Frase...” Ray was walking into their cabin, backward, bottom bumping the door open, with bags of groceries in his arms. Jeeze, Fraser was good for him. He'd got him buying groceries... his Mom would be amazed. Mind you... he was amazed himself at the prices round here. Everything cost a fortune, because so much had to be flown in fresh. Groceries were luxuries. Not that they'd ever run short of protein, with Fraser looking after their needs. Caribou and fish went a long way to fill a hungry belly. And they could afford the odd treat like... Ray sniffed his purchases again, and smiled. As well as the healthy stuff like fruit and whole wheat bread, there was a delicious sponge cake... which hadn't in fact cost that much, because Mrs Murphy liked them, and baked it from scratch. 

 

Ray sauntered through to the kitchen, grinning to himself at the thought of the meal that he had planned. He and Fraser took it in turns to cook, and tonight it was his turn. He was going to make a proper deep pan pizza from scratch. (God bless Ma Vecchio, and her generosity with family recipes.) You couldn't order pizza in this far above the tree line, and his cravings had finally driven him to learn to cook. Who'd have thought it? He was getting quite good.

 

As he stacked the groceries it hit him that Fraser hadn't answered. Huh, he thought, puzzled, crinkling his brow. He should be back by now. 

 

“Fraser?” Silence. “Ben?” Usually he kept 'Ben' for their secret snuggling up in bed name, but it popped out when he was concerned for him.

 

Still no answer. But... Ray had a good sense about these things. The cabin didn't feel empty... Where the hell was Dief?

There were only three rooms, so it didn't take long to find him... or Fraser. They were in the bedroom, Dief lying at Fraser's feet, staring up at him unhappily. Fraser was sitting on the edge of the bed, blank faced and pale looking. His hands hung between his knees, open palmed, as though he'd dropped something, and forgotten how to pick it up.

 

“Ben!” With one step Ray was beside his beloved, arm around him. His heart was thumping with fright. The last time he'd seen Ben like this was just after they had got back from the “Quest”, when it finally hit him that his mother had been murdered, that his parents were really gone. He'd seemed out of it, terrifyingly near cracking up. For three days he'd hardly spoken. Ray had started to worry that he'd said something, done something, that Fraser was beginning to regret their intimacy. But when he asked Fraser what he'd done, his partner had been as mute as a pebble. Then, out of the blue, he'd started talking about his father's ghost, and how his mother had come to say goodbye... Ray shuddered. That had been a horrible time. Every feeling of guilt Ben had ever had seemed to surge up in one sickening rush. He kept saying he should have done something to help his mother, as though a six year old could have done anything, and then rambled about Victoria, and what he'd done to Vecchio, and all the people he thought he had let down. It was over a week before he finally just broke, and allowed himself to cry in Ray's arms. After what seemed like hours he had stopped crying, and fallen asleep. Ray had sat up all night watching him. In the morning things had seemed to go back to normal. But... Ray looked at Fraser now, sitting like a ghost. Maybe some hurts didn't go away, just because you cried.

 

Ray put his other arm around Fraser, and pulled him into a hard hug. Ben sat stiff as a post, not responsive to touch at all. As closed off and rigid as he'd ever been. “Come on,” Ray persisted, gently, “tell me what's wrong? Frase? Ben? What's happened?” 

 

“I...” Ben's voice was coming out as a whisper. “I have...”

 

Oh God, Ray thought. He's going to tell me he has cancer or something.

 

“I have a... daughter.”

 

A long silence, and Fraser pulled back from Ray's embrace. His face was so white that his eyes were dark in it. He looked terrified.

 

And... Ray felt the oddest thing in his chest. At first he didn't realise what it was... then he did, and released it. 

 

He was laughing. “Awh, Ben... that's... that's wonderful. That's just... greatness. I thought... Jeez, I thought it was something bad. I thought you were gonna say you had like, a termite thingy... term, termy... like six months to live.” He put his hands on either side of Fraser's head, and pulled in for a quick kiss on the lips. Moving back out of the kiss he grinned straight in Fraser's eyes. “So, what... is she from back when you were a teenager or something? You musta sowed some wild oats sometime...”

 

“No,” Fraser whispered, and looked away from Ray, with an expression of shame. “She's four. She's... Victoria's the mother.”

 

Oh... shit. That was why Fraser was looking like a stunned bull at the slaughter house. That bitch... There couldn't be a worse mother. There was nothing Ray could think of to say, so he hauled Fraser back into an even longer hug. Fraser softened, just a little, his head dipping to Ray's shoulder, hiding his face. Not much of a response, but Ray would take it as a start.

 

“Buddy, you know I'll do anything for you,” he said, softly, allowing his fingers to tousle through the warm silk of Fraser's hair. “You tell me what you want to do, okay? Anything.” Fraser started shaking, his head still on Ray's shoulder, but made no sound. Ray held him even tighter, and kissed his ear.

 

It was about then that Fraser started crying. Ray rocked him like a baby on his shoulder, whispering nonsense, stroking his back, and waited for the storm to pass.  
…

 

Chicago airport was a noisy affair. Fraser was having difficulty concentrating on anything. Part of his mind was consumed with worry about the suddenness with which he had left his posting in Canada. (Would Neville hold out okay till Fraser's temporary replacement turned up? Would Dief be okay with the Berger family? How the hell was he going to reorganise his life so he could be the Dad that his little girl needed?) Part of his mind was distracted by thoughts of their arrival, of getting through customs, of getting their bags back (and Ray's idea of packing light was wildly divergent from his own. He'd done his best but really, his organisational skills...) But most importantly, all the way from the Arctic Circle, Fraser had been thinking of his daughter (who he now knew was called Catherine Benton.) Wondering what she would think of him when she saw him. How frightened she must be... And what would he say to her? What could he say to her?

 

Oh Lord, he wasn't ready for this. His own father had struggled with parenthood. What if he turned out to be the same? He couldn't stand that. What if he messed up his little girl's life... even worse than he already had? What if...

 

Don't be stupid Fraser, he told himself. It's not your fault...

 

Yes it was. He'd broken Victoria by sending her to prison, and when she'd returned he'd been so consumed with lust that he hadn't even considered her strong motive for revenge... and who's fault was it that they hadn't used protection? Poor little girl... every selfish act of his life had led up to this. To this child being abandoned by her mother.

 

And spina bifida... Fraser closed his eyes. This was something he could never say to anyone else... not even Ray. Not either of his Rays, in fact. It felt as though... as though somehow his daughter was carrying his punishment in her body. As though the bullet nestled next to his spine had somehow pierced her too. Good Lord, what a stupid thought. He shook his head, incredulous at his own superstition. It was little better than sympathetic magic... but he couldn't escape the feeling that his daughter's disability, like everything else, was somehow his fault too. The sins of the fathers...

 

Ray was stomping back from the baggage collection conveyor belt, having finally rescued their luggage. Fraser blinked. He had fully intended to go with Ray, but somehow he was standing dazed, looking at the electronic timetable displays flicking the changes. He had to stop doing this... zoning out. How long had he been standing here, like a statue? He glanced at the clock, and was shocked to see that he'd lost twelve minutes. Just standing there, staring.

 

“I'm sorry, Ray... let me help you with that.”

 

“Hey, don't worry Frase, I've got it.”

 

Fraser swallowed an uprush of irritation. Ray was being very sweet and understanding... and it annoyed the hell out of him. He wanted Ray, at least once, to tell him he was a selfish jerk, to tell him what an idiot he was for ever sleeping with Victoria. There had been a time when the only way Ray could communicate with him was through a punch on the jaw. Right now, Fraser wished Ray would just revert to an earlier stage in their relationship, and threaten to kick him in the head.

 

Unable to say any of this, or even understand it, trapped in his own thoughts, Fraser grabbed his bag, and stalked off to the exits. He was aware of Ray trailing behind, and knew that if he looked he would see that he had hurt his lover. Damn. He was being a jerk, and he knew it... but he couldn't seem to stop.

 

At the taxi rank Ray took over, probably concerned that Fraser was going to be so courteous they'd have to end up walking into Chicago. Fraser looked at his feet, ashamed. He didn't have an ounce of courtesy in him. He just wanted to get to the hotel, so he could drop his bags, and hide in the bathroom, trying to wash himself clean. For the first time in years, he could feel her hands all over him, exactly their touch. At the time it had been intoxicating, but now, in memory, it was like the cold track of a snail across his skin. Truth be told, he was feeling sick with nerves. 

 

He leant his head against the window in the back of the taxi, and let Ray chat away with the driver. Normally he would be doing the polite thing, and joining in, but now... The thoughts and images wouldn't go away. Fortitude Pass, hunger, the shadow of death, and the snow. Chicago, the candles, her fingers in his mouth again. Polar bears, diamonds. Ripping through Ray Vecchio's house, tearing everything to pieces. The railway platform, and oh God, Ray Vecchio, standing over him, appalled, gun in his hand, looking like he'd just been shot himself.

 

Everything he'd done, everything he'd had done to him...

 

Her fingers on his skin.

 

Stop it, Benton, he told himself, in his grandmother's voice. “Pull yourself together,” he muttered, and closed his eyes when he realised Ray had heard. How long was it to the hotel? It seemed to be taking forever.

 

In fact, it wasn't that long. Again, Ray kept up friendly chatter with the staff as they arrived in the lobby, got their key, ascended in the elevator. Fraser stared at the doors, and stepped through wordlessly as soon as they had opened. When he arrived at their room, he discovered his hands were shaking. Damn, he thought, aware that his inner voice was cursing more than usual, and aware that Ray was patiently waiting for him to get it together enough to open the door.

 

“Shit,” he snapped, and felt Ray flinch beside him at the unaccustomed profanity. Biting his tongue, he passed the key to Ray, and stood back. Now he couldn't even unlock a door.

 

At least... at least he could have that shower now.

 

“You okay?” Ray had already asked him that, in fact exactly five times since they'd got off the aeroplane. 

 

Fraser felt himself tense, his shoulders hitch up, and his fists curl into clenches. His last nerve frayed. This time, he didn't say everything was fine. He just couldn't give another lie for an answer. “No, Ray,” he said, in a tight voice. “I'm not all right. I'm very far from all right. Could you please stop asking? And...” he put his hand up, in a 'stop' gesture like a traffic warden in rush hour. “For the love of God, do not say that you're sorry. Because, if you do, I might just start screaming.”

 

There was, as he had expected, a long silence. Then, as he had also expected, Ray rallied. 

 

“So, Frase, you want first dibs on the shower?” Fraser looked at his partner, and saw that he was hurt, but trying his damnedest to be understanding. He was going to carry on treating Fraser as though nothing had happened. 

 

Fraser sighed. He had no right to be unkind to Ray. “Come here,” he murmured, apologetically, and put his arm around him. “Maybe we should save water, and shower together.”

 

Ray's eyes shone with relief, and mischief. “You know, that's a very good idea...”

 

Fraser lifted Ray's hands to his mouth, kissed the tips of them, gently sucked them into his mouth. And he forgot other fingers. When Ray kissed him back, he forgot that other tongue. For a while, at least, all thoughts and memories were driven out. There was only now. The taste of Ray's skin, his heat, and the strength and tenderness of his touch.  
…

 

“Hey, sweetheart.” The nice woman, Frannie, was kneeling at her feet, tying her shoelaces. She smiled up at her, kindly. “Don't worry about tomorrow, you look beautiful. Your Daddy will love you.”

 

Cathy wasn't sure about that. Mommy loved her, but Mommy hated her too, and Mommy left her. She looked at kind Frannie, and said nothing.

 

“Honestly, you don't have to be scared. I've talked to your Daddy on the phone. I've told him all about you, and he's flown all the way from Canada to meet you. You know, he's got this beautiful doggy, and they told him he'd have to wait a week for his doggy to come into the country with him... and he left his doggy at home with a friend just to see you a week early. Your Daddy never goes anywhere without his doggy, so he must really love you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

“Will I get to see his doggy?”

 

“Yes, you will.” Frannie finished fiddling with Cathy's socks, and stood, went behind the wheelchair to start their journey to the ice cream stand. Cathy had got upset at all the noise in the house, but she hadn't said anything. Frannie though, just looked at her and seemed to know. “Let's go for a walk,” she had suggested, so off they went.

They bumped down some steps, and Cathy winced, even though Frannie was being very careful. The pain didn't bother her too much though. She was used to it. What really bothered her was the thought that, tomorrow morning, they were going to a fancy hotel to see her Daddy. Cathy had been in fancy hotels before, when her mother was playing dress up. Sometimes she played dress up with strange men, and Cathy had to stay in her room and be quiet, because the men wouldn't like it if they saw a little girl, and they really wouldn't like it if they saw she couldn't walk. So, Cathy was good at being quiet. She didn't like hotels. She wondered would Daddy make her stay in her room and be quiet. 

 

Frannie was still talking. “I don't know when you'll see the doggy, but Daddy will sort it out. Now, you know he's coming with a friend of his. His friend is called Ray, and he's your Daddy's best friend. They live together and...”

 

“Are they married?”

 

Frannie paused, as though she was surprised. Then she said, carefully, “yes, they're gay.”

 

“You mean happy? Like someone born on the Sabbath day?” Cathy remembered the line of the little poem, hearing it in Mommy's voice.

 

“Well, probably they're happy. I mean, if I was with either of them I'd be happy... oh.” Cathy tipped her head back to look up at Frannie, and saw that she was blushing. “I didn't mean to say that... I forget you're so little.”

 

“I'm a big girl now,” she said, looking forward again, at the trees and lamp posts as they passed along the way. The ice cream van was at the park. She was looking forward to the park. Maybe Frannie would let her feed the ducks.

 

“I was just surprised. I didn't realise that you knew men could be, you know, married.”

 

“Why not?” Cathy was puzzled. “I thought when you grow up you meet your best friend, and then you get married.”

 

“Well, that would be a great way to do things,” Frannie sighed, wistfully. Cathy jumped, then smiled, as a kiss descended from nowhere and landed on her head. “You're such a clever little girl,” the woman said. “I wish grown ups could be more like you.”

 

“Thank you, Frannie.”

 

“Now, you remember what your Daddy looks like, don't you?”

 

“Yes, I've seen the pictures you showed me. I've got a good memory.” Cathy had seen a picture of her Daddy before, but only for a moment, when Mommy wasn't looking. Earlier today, when Frannie had got out her photograph album, she had been so excited. And Daddy really was as handsome as Mommy's picture made him look. Cathy was still feeling worried, but now she was feeling a little happier too. Daddy had flown all the way from another country, and he'd come with his best friend, and one day soon she'd get to meet his doggy. Maybe he would love her, after all. “Daddy's handsome, isn't he?”

 

“That he is,” Frannie said, with a smile in her voice. “That he is.”

 

“Does his friend look like Daddy?”

 

“No... he looks more like...” Frannie laughed. “He's blond, and funny, and he's always jumping around, and his hair looks like he's got electricity coming through him. He's all spiky.”

 

“He sounds fun.”

 

“Yeah, he is. A lot of fun. You'll like him too.”

 

“Will he like me?”

 

“Who couldn't like you? You're the prettiest girl in the world.”

 

“Mommy was pretty. She was even prettier than you.” Cathy felt her lip wobble. “Mommy didn't like me. That's why she left me.”

 

“Honey,” the woman stopped pushing the chair, just by the park gates, and came around the front, knelt down again. She looked up at her with such tenderness. “I don't know why your Mommy left you, but can I tell you something? I've only known you for three days, and I love you. Come here.” She put her arms round Cathy, and gave her a hug, a gentle hug, because she was a kind woman, and she knew Cathy's back hurt. “You're a lovely, lovely girl, and your Daddy is going to be so happy to have you. Everything's gonna be okay.”

 

Cathy smiled, and sucked her lower lip, and hoped that nice Frannie was right. She'd know, tomorrow.


	3. Well And Truly Distracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fraser has a lot on his mind, and Ray can think of only one way to distract him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like slash, skip this entire chapter. I only write what the voices tell me to. I am not in any way responsible for the behaviour of Fraser and Ray! They're incorrigeable.

Ray woke up, with the side of his face sweating, and the thump of Fraser's heart in his ear. The dim light that bled in through the window (Chicago lights, ambient flicker) illuminated the clock, which said three in the morning. He realised that he had been sleeping for hours, curled on Fraser's chest. Fraser couldn't have moved at all. Ray smiled, and moved his head, looked up and saw...

 

Saw Fraser's eyes, in the dim light, staring wide and blank at the ceiling. Shit... Ray had fallen into a happy sex coma, and Fraser must have just... gone off inside his own head again. That was why he hadn't moved. He was practically cata... tonic. That was the word. Catatonic.

 

Not surprising. It was gonna be a big day, seeing his daughter for the first time. Huh... Well, it was Ray's job to make sure Fraser kept calm. There wasn't anything he could say to help, but he could think of a few things he could do that might distract him. 

 

Stress relief. That was what the situation called for. And... funnily enough, even though they'd had a stupid amount of fun in the shower what... five hours ago... Ray was hard again. 

 

Cool... 

 

“Hey, Ben,” he said, as though everything was normal, and shifted up the bed, until his face was level with Fraser's. Fraser blinked, looking startled, and turned his head. Ray moved in slow, brushed his lips against Fraser's lips. Earlier, he had kissed all the panic out of him, and if he had to do it again, that was just fine by him.

 

Fraser's lips parted, and Ray's tongue slipped between teeth, over warm slippery velvet. Ray smiled around the kiss, as he saw Ben's eyes shut, and felt the urgency take over his mouth, as the kiss was returned. His hands slid down Ben's naked body, and he crushed him to him. Yeah, like that Ben... His own eyes were shut now. Ben's lips pulled away from his, and Ray gasped, his mouth suddenly lonely and empty. 

 

“Ben...” 

 

Before he could groan out his frustration, that beautiful mouth was closing around the nape of his neck, and Ben was wriggling, all arms and legs, trying to smother him with his body, and his kisses, and his tongue. Ray laughed, “oh yeah... like that. You're a Fraser blanket, Ben blanket, go on, climb all over me.” He pushed his face into the pillow, still laughing at himself. He talked such shit when they were together like this. For a moment he thought, 'Ben should be laughing and talking shit too,' but he couldn't think, because... oh, like that... don't stop... He turned his face sideways, to catch a breath. He was forgetting how to breathe... Ben was licking between his shoulder blades, and down his spine, and he was nipping... And his fingers were gripping and... Ray groaned, and his back arched. Ben was playing him like a violin. “What,” he panted, sweating and shaking, heart like a hammer and all sense flown out the window, “what, you wanna make me sing, you want me to sing for you?” Ben still wasn't saying anything, wasn't laughing, wasn't making any noise at all, but Ray couldn't think, couldn't think, couldn't...

 

“Oh, God, Ben!” Involuntarily he felt himself bucking against the mattress, and Fraser hadn't even really started yet. “You're gonna kill me, don't you dare stop...”

 

And Fraser didn't stop. Played Ray like a fiddle, until he damned near passed out with it.

 

After he'd come, and once he could breathe again, he rolled to face Fraser, and drifted his hand down to his groin, for a gentle flick of gratitude. His eyes widened with disbelief. After all that...

 

“You've still not come?”

 

“No,” Fraser murmured, and looked away, like a shy virgin on her wedding night. 

 

Awh, Jeez... Ray recognised the expression on his face. It was that same blank pebble of a look that he had on their last night in Canada, when Fraser had told him about his daughter. Crying out loud, the whole idea was for Ray to distract Fraser, fuck him senseless and get a good vibe back in him, and instead Fraser had bonked the brains out of him. For fuck's sake, he'd just come so hard everything had gone white for a minute. How the hell did someone get to do all that good stuff, get a hard on the size of Canada, and not enjoy it? Yeah... great. Anger bubbled up inside Ray. So, Fraser wanted to play the martyr, did he? Yeah, well, he'd teach him about that.

 

Hiding his anger, he said, “you did all that for me, and you didn't get anything out of it?”

 

“I did,” Fraser smiled at him, crookedly. “I got to see you.”

 

Awh, Jeez, did he have to be so sweet when he was being a jerk? “Yeah, well,” Ray gave a slow smile, and closed his fingers around Fraser's erection. He felt it jerk in his hand, despite Fraser's best efforts, and his smile grew broader. He didn't move his hand, just tightened it very slightly. “I can't leave you hanging like that,” he murmured, “that wouldn't be buddies.”

 

“Ray,” Fraser gasped, “you don't have to...”

 

Oh, is that what Fraser thought? Well, by the time Ray had finished with him, he was gonna be begging for it. That would teach him to be a stupid fucking martyr. Ray licked his lips, felt his grin turning wicked. He was gonna enjoy this. “Hey, shut up,” he growled, trying to do the 'tough guy,' but unable to hide his affection. He tried again. “Shut up, or I'll kick you in the head.” Fraser knew this game, and, if it was even possible, grew still harder. Gently, and very very slowly, Ray's hand was beginning to stroke. Fraser was trying to hold himself back, but Ray could feel the tremor running through that warm cock right into his fingers. Oh yeah, this was gonna be greatness. “You might say I don't have to,” Ray stated, pretending to be having a reasonable conversation, “but your friend down here,” he smirked, “your friend says, 'don't leave me this way.'” Ray started singing, falsetto, the Communards. “'Baby, my heart is full of love and desire for you, now come on down, do what you gotta do...'” Fraser's eyes were crinkling up into a smile, and he was starting to pant. Ray slowed down, and Fraser groaned, beginning to push. Oh yeah, Ray congratulated himself. He's forgotten to be a martyr. 

 

He carried on singing, knowing that it was appalling, and knowing that sex singing always made Fraser laugh. “'Only your good lovin' can set me free...' I dunno the next line, you'll have to sing to me...”

 

Fraser's eyes were tight shut, and his mouth was opened in something halfway between a smile and an 'oh' of ecstasy. Any minute now. “'Don't leave me this way...'” Fraser started to laugh. Ray grinned. That was his cue. His cue to be evil... Fraser didn't always laugh when he came (thank God, that could be bad for your self esteem actually.) But he did always come when he broke out laughing. With malice aforethought, Ray snatched his hand away from Fraser's erection.

 

He had stopped just in time. Fraser's eyes flew wide open, and he stared at Ray, bereft. His hand automatically moved to his cock, to replace the missing girdle of Ray's fingers.

 

“No you don't,” Ray grabbed Fraser's wrist, and pinned it above his head. Fraser was plenty strong enough to fight back, but it wasn't that kind of sex this time. If Fraser wanted to be a martyr, Ray could make a game of that. Fraser pretended to struggle, but he was still panting with frustrated laughter. Ray sprang over Fraser's body, and pinned his hips between his knees. “You lie there,” he ordered, “be pretty, and don't do anything.”

 

“But what about...” Fraser's voice had dropped, a full half octave, and his fair skin was flushed with passion. Ray sat back on Fraser's thighs, folded his arms across his chest, and enjoyed his handiwork. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Fraser was well and truly distracted.

 

“What about your problem?” Ray dropped a hand, and ran a teasing finger up and down the length of Fraser's erection. Fraser desperately rose toward the finger, and Ray removed it. With a stern expression he glared at Fraser. “I said, 'don't do anything.' And I meant it. You don't do anything at all. You don't even tell me what you want, unless I ask you to. I'll just have to work it out for myself.”

 

Fraser was panting, and Ray flicked his nipples. A stifled cry, and Fraser was looking at him pleadingly. “You know,” Ray said, slowly, feeling his grin turn villainous, “maybe I'll just stop. What do you think? Should I just stop?”

 

“No...” Fraser closed his eyes. Ray could see him struggling to still himself, but even so, between his knees, he could feel a tremor, as Fraser's whole body vibrated like a harp string.

 

“Really? Do you want me to do this?” He licked his finger, and drew a spiral up the length of Fraser's shaft. 

 

Fraser nodded, mutely, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. 

 

“How about...” Ray started to move down the bed. He hovered his face over Fraser's groin, and sniffed. Wow, that smelled good. He ached to taste Fraser, but he could wait... he was gonna wait until Fraser couldn't wait any longer. He was gonna wait till Fraser begged. And then he was gonna make him wait some more. “How about this?” He blew on Fraser, peering up to see the look of abandon on his face, and smiled when Fraser's whole body began to shake. 

 

“Yes, Ray, yes...”

 

Ray peered back down, and saw the head of Fraser's hard on, leaking. He nuzzled in closer, and began to flicker his tongue on either side of Fraser's balls. “You want that?”

 

“Oh, God... yes...”

 

“What about this?” He started to lick up and down Fraser's cock, tasting the pre ejaculate at the top, and drawing it all the way down to the base. “Like this?”

 

Fraser seemed to have lost the ability to speak, and started to buck his hips. Ray drew his head back. “I said don't do anything,” he reminded his lover. “If you're naughty, I might have to punish you.”

 

Fraser groaned, and bucked again convulsively. Ray turned his head to one side, and bit the inside of Fraser's thigh. Not too hard, but hard enough that Fraser let out a cry. Ray put both hands on Fraser's hips, and pushed them hard against the bed. “Don't move, or I'll bite your cock.” The aforementioned organ twitched at the threat, and Ray swallowed a laugh. Laughing wouldn't fit with the tough guy persona he was adopting for this game. He glanced back up the length of Fraser's body, and then he really grinned. Poor Ben... he looked completely thrown. “Or... you know, I don't have to punish you. I could just kiss it better.” For a moment he swallowed Fraser into his mouth, gathered it in as far as it would go, sucking, then released it. Again, Fraser groaned. Wow... this was too good. 

 

“Hey, Frase, what am I?”

 

Fraser started laughing again, and Ray quickly tightened his grip on the base of his erection, to stop him from coming. “Go on, Frase, what am I?”

 

“You're a sex god,” Fraser declared, in response to long standing custom.

 

“I am. So, what are you gonna do?”

 

“Anything you say.”

 

“That's right. Now... you behave. I'm gonna blow you, and you're not going to move a muscle. If you do move, I'll bite you.” Fraser groaned. “Now, I know you might like that, cause you're a fuckin' freak, but if you behave, you'll like what I do even more.”

 

“Okay, okay... just...”

 

“Just what?”

 

“Let me come.”

 

Yes! He'd done it, he'd got Fraser to beg.

 

He was gonna make him beg a lot more before he'd finished.

 

“You'll come when I let you. And I'm gonna take my own sweet time,” Ray said, and slid down with his head between Fraser's thighs. He might as well get comfortable. He planned on being there for quite a while. 

 

Ha. That would teach Fraser to play the martyr.

 

When Ray finally let Fraser come, he surged up, spurting down his throat, gasping and laughing. His thighs were pink with friction from Ray's stubble, with little purple love bites blossoming on either side. Ray's face was sore with grinning, his jaw and throat were sore from giving head, and the sun had come up. He wriggled up along Fraser's body, and wrapped himself around him, face to face.

 

“Want to taste yourself,” he whispered.

 

“Yes...” Fraser's voice was barely audible.

 

Ray closed his mouth over Fraser's, waited for his lips to open, and allowed him to probe into his mouth, urgently, sucking out the taste of his own come.

 

Finally the two men stopped shaking. Grinning into each other's faces they kissed again, more gently, little feather touches on their cheeks, noses, chins. Fraser's whole body was slack and relaxed as a flag on a still day, and he was still breaking out into thready laughter as he stroked Ray's face. Awh, Jeez, he was adorable.

 

“Better?” Ray quirked the question.

 

“Yes,” Fraser smiled. “Much, much better.”

 

Mission accomplished. “Well, next time don't be such a jerk.” Ray smacked him on the arm. “Come on. The alarm's gonna go off in a minute. We gotta clean ourselves up. We stink.”

 

Fraser raised his eyebrows, quizzically, and sniffed. “Oh good Lord,” he declared, startled. “We really, really do.”


	4. Princess Hedgehog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser and Ray meet Cathy for the first time, they all go swimming (and the boys get wet.)

Frannie was sitting in the hotel lounge, next to Cathy, holding her hand. Cathy was hugging her teddy, sucking its ear, and looking very little and vulnerable. She was a strange, sweet kid, thought Frannie. On the one hand, she was very precocious, spoke like an older child, could read and write extremely well. On the other, she was small for her age, and elfin pretty, so people tended to mistake her for a three year old. And emotionally, one moment she had her heart on her sleeve, as should be the case with any child her age... the next moment she was closing down, with a little perfect mask on, and you couldn't tell what was going on inside.

 

Right now, although she had the mask on, Frannie could tell that she was scared. “Sweetheart,” she said, reassuringly, as she had done before. “Your Daddy's gonna love you. They both are.”

 

Cathy looked at her, with huge solemn eyes. For a moment she looked wistful, then the mask was back on. “Mommy called me sweetheart sometimes.”

 

Frannie smiled, her face frozen. What could she say to that? 

 

“Do you think she loved me,” the little girl asked, in a tiny voice.

 

Awh, God. There was only one thing to say to that one, whether it was true or not. “Of course she loved you.” She blinked. It wouldn't do to be crying when Fraser and Ray got here. “Honestly," Frannie said, carefully, "I think she tried her best.”

 

Cathy nodded. “Will my Daddy try his best?”

 

“He always does.”

 

“And when he's finished trying his best, will he leave me like Mommy did?”

 

Oh God, Frannie thought, I just said the exact wrong thing.

 

“Your Daddy never ever gives up,” she said, “and he won't let you down.”

 

“Promise?”

 

Frannie thought of Fraser, and smiled. “Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

 

Cathy nodded, seemingly satisfied, and carried on looking at the door.

 

Frannie recognised them the instant they entered the room, even though she hadn't seen them for over a year. Fraser stepped through the doors first. Damn, he looked good in those jeans and that leather jacket, and... oh hell, what was wrong with her? Fraser walks in a room and her eyes pop out on stalks. Jeez, grow up, Frannie, you're gonna be a Mom soon... But he did look good. He seemed alert, and far more relaxed than she had expected, given the way he'd sounded on the phone yesterday. Ray came up behind him, (and wow, he looked pretty damn fine too...) and stood next to him, hand on his shoulder. The two of them looked like those... what were they? Oh yeah... meerkat thingies, standing on the horizon, turning their heads left and right, sniffing away with their ears pointed to the wind. Only, sexy meerkats. Frannie smiled at the image, and bent her head to Cathy, pointed. “That's them. That man with the dark hair? That's your Daddy.”

 

Cathy's face opened up in trembling fear and hope. It was at that point that Fraser turned, and saw her. Everything in him seemed to go still for a moment, as though he'd taken in a huge breath and held it. Then it was all released in the biggest, most radiant smile Frannie had ever seen on him. Holy God, she thought, you could light a city with that smile. 

 

“Cathy,” he said, and was across the room in a heart beat. He dropped into a comfortable squat in front of the wheelchair, and gazed at his daughter, as though he'd never seen anything as beautiful in his life. Frannie couldn't stop blinking now. She really was crying. She lifted her eyes, and saw Ray standing behind Fraser, hesitant, and... wow, tearful himself. She'd forgotten how intense his eyes could sometimes be. She blinked, and her face flooded. Ray dropped gently to one knee, still behind Fraser, not wanting to intrude. She could read him so well. He'd only come forward when it felt right.

 

Fraser put his hands out to Cathy, palms flat, facing upward. Frannie realised with a start that Fraser probably feared the little girl had been beaten, and that he was being very careful with his body language so as not to scare her. She hadn't told Fraser about her suspicions, because... well... she hoped she was wrong. What was it, she thought, that tipped Fraser off to the same fear she had?

 

Oh yeah, of course. Fraser knew Victoria. She looked across at Cathy again, still sucking her teddy's ear. Looked back at Fraser, and Ray, waiting patiently.

 

Eventually Cathy put down her teddy on her lap, and proffered her right hand, formally, as she had done to Frannie.

 

“I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance,” the little girl said. Fraser's face betrayed a flicker of pain, but his smile returned, and he took the hand. Cathy shook his hand, but Fraser didn't immediately let go. Instead, he dropped his head, lifted her little fingers to his face, and brushed a kiss on her wrist, as though he was a knight and Cathy was his queen of the May. 

 

Oh God, Frannie thought again, remembering how she had wished her Pop would treat her like that. I'm never gonna stop crying.

 

Looking across at Ray, now shaking the hand of Fraser's little princess, she realised that he was also, definitely, weeping. With a stupid grin on his face. The only ones not crying were Fraser and Cathy. And... For the first time Frannie looked at her and didn't see a little copy of Victoria's photographs, but a living reflection of Fraser. The little girl's smile, shyly spreading across her face, was a perfect mirror of her father's. Crooked little quirk in the right hand corner, and that new tooth that had come through, just a teeny tad snaggled.

 

God, she thought, looking at the two men, and the little girl. They're gonna be the most beautiful family in the world.

 

“What do you want to do, Cathy,” Fraser was saying, and Cathy was mumbling into her teddy. Frannie, felt her fingers clench, wishing she had Victoria's neck in her grasp. She could have told Fraser... poor kid didn't know how to answer that question. She got the feeling Victoria had never once asked it sincerely.

 

“I think,” Frannie said, taking charge, “that we should all go swimming. You liked that, didn't you Cathy?”

 

“Yes,” the little girl said, smiling gratefully.

 

“Okay then,” Ray replied, grinning. “Let's go swimming.”

 

Fraser looked at Frannie for the first time. “Thank you... so much, for looking after her...”

 

“Awh, it was just a pleasure. She's an angel.”

 

“Daddy,” Cathy said, trying out the word for the first time. Fraser's head snapped in her direction, that bright smile blazing back. Her voice was trembling with nerves, as though she was already resigned to 'no' for an answer. “Could you... could you carry me?”

 

Fraser had his arms around her in an instant. “Of course I'll carry you.” He stood up, holding her carefully with one broad hand cradled on her back, right above the spot where Frannie knew her injury lay. Wow, she thought, it's like he's psychic. How does he know where to rest his hand?

 

Cathy's smile broadened, her eyes brightened, and she leant her head against her Daddy's chest. With a look of baffled joy, Fraser lowered his face, and kissed her hair.  
…

 

Daddy and Ray were holding her hands, one on each side, as they floated her out across the pool. Frannie was sitting on the side, with a floppy hat on, enjoying the sunlight. “Enjoy yourselves,” she called, popped on her headphones and waved.

 

Cathy smiled as the water came up to her chin, and she started to float on her back. There was a glass ceiling on this swimming pool, and through it she could see a bright blue sky. She liked looking at the sky when she swam. When she was in the water, she felt like she could fly. She'd always liked the water, and she'd always liked it when Mommy was happy and took her swimming. Mommy would hold her by both hands, and they'd go to the shallow end, and Mommy would go backward on her knees, and she'd be able to walk. Only because she was in the water, but it still felt good, to pretend she could walk, and it felt good when Mommy held her hands, and smiled at her, and told her she was beautiful, and that when she was older she'd be able to walk for real.

 

But Mommy never stayed happy, and they didn't go to the water as often as she liked. And if she asked, and Mommy wasn't happy, then there would be shouting, and she might get smacked, because she deserved it, and then later Mommy would come and give her a hug, and cry, and say she didn't mean it. And Cathy would pat Mommy's hair, and tell her it was all right, and Mommy would keep crying, and say it wasn't all right, and she never wanted to hurt her.

 

Once, when Mommy was sad she talked about Daddy. She said he'd saved her once, out of snow, when she was going to freeze to death, but then he'd done a very bad thing, and she'd had to run away. Looking at Daddy though, Cathy couldn't think of him doing a bad thing. She wanted to ask him about the bad thing but... but she was a little bit frightened. Because he was very beautiful, just like Mommy was very beautiful. And nobody thought beautiful people could do bad things, but she knew Mommy did. She played dress up with strange men, and then she took all their money, and then they'd have to keep paying her so their wives wouldn't find out. 

 

Poor Mommy. She always cried after those dress ups. And who was going to hug her and tell her it was all right, now that Cathy wasn't there?

 

“Hey, you're looking sad,” Ray said. Ray was nice. His funny hair wasn't spiky now that they were in the water, and she liked that, because it made him look like a boy. She liked his spiky hair too though, because she wanted to put her fingers in it and see if was like a hedgehog's. Mommy had taken her to a zoo once, and she was allowed to pet the baby pigs, and lambs. Her favourite were hedgehogs. Baby hedgehogs had soft spikes, they were sweet. It had been a nice day, till they got to the polar bears. Then Mommy started to cry, and they had to go home. 

 

“Hedgehogs are spiky,” she informed Ray solemnly.

 

“Yeah, I guess they are,” he agreed, with a puzzled expression.

 

“Can hedgehogs swim?”

 

“Uh... I dunno. I wouldn't have thought so, but you'd have to ask your Daddy.”

 

Cathy looked at Daddy, admiringly. She thought he was very handsome, even when he wasn't wearing nice clothes. He had big baggy black shorts on, which would have looked silly on anyone else, because they'd had to buy swimming things. Ray had bought proper swimming trunks, and then they had bought her a pretty pink swim suit with a frilly skirt on it, and a picture of a butterfly. She felt like a fairy tale princess. Daddy looked like a fairy tale prince. His hair had gone really dark, like Mommy's, in the water, and was flat against his head as if it had been painted on. 

 

She looked at Ray, all blond, with a little boy smile, and thought about his suggestion. 'Ask your Daddy...' That was interesting. “Why,” she asked Ray, “does Daddy know lots?”

 

Ray laughed. “Your Daddy knows almost everything,” he said. 

 

“No I don't,” Daddy looked at her, and rolled his eyes. “Ray has a completely unfounded faith in my expertise.”

 

Cathy crinkled her brow, trying to remember what 'expertise' meant. 

 

“Hey, Fraser, you don't talk like that to a kid...”

 

“'Expertise,'” Cathy said, “'skill or knowledge in a certain area...'”

 

Ray's mouth fell open in astonishment. “Holy sh... sugar. I mean, did you learn the dictionary off by heart?”

 

“I've only read as far as M. I don't think I remember all of it. And Mommy scribbled out some words, said I shouldn't read them till I was older.”

 

Ray blinked, and stared across at Daddy. “Frase... I dunno how to say this... she's one of you.” 

 

Cathy's lip trembled. “Don't... do you not like that? Did I do something wrong?”

 

“God, no... you're just... you're aces. You're greatness wrapped up in a big bow. You are, officially, the bee's knees. You are your Daddy's daughter.”

 

Cathy's mind went blank. Daddy used some difficult words sometimes, but she could work out what he meant. Ray, on the other hand, used normal words, but she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

 

“Don't worry,” Daddy was grinning at her confusion. “I know just how you feel. You get used to it.”

 

“What does that mean, what he said?”

 

“It means that he thinks you are wonderful, and he likes that you're clever and know big words, because he thinks you're like me. Is that correct, Ray?”

 

“Yeah,” Ray was still laughing. “She's just like you, and that's perfect.”

 

Cathy smiled and relaxed, and started kicking her legs. Daddy looked at her, interested.

 

“You can move your legs then, that's good.”

 

“Yes,” she said. “Mommy used to take me to the pool, so I could practice learning to walk.”

 

“That was good of her,” Daddy said. He sounded like he meant it, but Cathy caught the look on Ray's face. Ray didn't like Mommy. It hurt her in her heart. She knew Mommy had done mean things, but she didn't like it that people didn't like her.

 

“Do you love Mommy,” she asked her Daddy, abruptly. Daddy froze for a minute, and Ray let out a sharp breath. Then Daddy smiled sadly.

 

“I'll always love your Mommy,” he said, “she was the only woman I ever loved. And things didn't work out between us, but she's given me something really beautiful.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“You.”

 

“Oh.” Cathy smiled. “Can you let go now,” she asked. “I can swim.”

 

“Can you?” Ray sounded approving. “Go on, let's see.”

 

Daddy took a little while to let go, as though he was frightened she might drown. 

 

“Daddy,” she pouted. “I'm not a baby...” Daddy let go, reluctantly, and she rolled in the water, starting to splash and doggy paddle along, holding her head high. “See,” she shouted over her shoulder. “I told you I can swim.”

 

“Hey,” Ray said, “you swim better than me. I couldn't swim when I was your age.”

 

“When did you learn to swim,” she asked, breathlessly, as she turned in a circle to face the men. 

 

“I was all grown up. Your Daddy taught me to swim.”

 

“So, does my Daddy really know everything?”

 

“No, I don't!” Daddy protested, but Ray was laughing.

 

“Go on, Fraser, I bet you. I bet you air that you know whether hedgehogs can swim or not.”

 

“Oh, good Lord.” Daddy sounded frustrated. He looked at her, and smiled, catching her in his arms as she got tired and swam in for a rest. “Don't read anything into this, princess,” (ooh, she loved it that he'd called her princess, she hoped he'd do it again) “but actually I do know. Hedgehogs can swim, but they get tired, so if you've got a pond, and it's got steep edges you have to build little hedgehog ladders so they can get out.”

 

“Frase, seriously? Little hedgehog ladders? What would they even look like?”

 

“Well, chicken wire works fine...”

 

“Hey, Cathy,” Ray was grinning at her again, sinking low in the water, so that his chin was covered. “You're a little hedgehog. And Daddy's your ladder.”

 

Cathy giggled and laughed at that idea, slapping her hands on the water to splash Ray. Ray sank further down, and started blowing bubbles. She squealed, and swam around Daddy, hung onto his back.

 

“Hey, Frase... shall we tell her about the Bounty?”

 

“Okay,” Fraser said, smiling, “maybe when we get home. But now... I've got an idea.”

 

“What?” Cathy hadn't noticed it, but she was hanging on to her Daddy's ears. He seemed completely oblivious to the indignity, as though his ears were simply handles that came with his head as attachments, designed specifically for children to dangle from.

 

“Why don't we go back to the shallower end, and you show us how well you walk?”

 

“Okay!” She let go of Daddy's ears, and started a determined doggy paddle in the right direction. Daddy walked alongside her, occasionally putting a hand under her belly when she was tired. Ray walked alongside too, talking cheerful nonsense about hedgehogs, and dictionaries, and how there must be something in the water in the 'arktikserkle' to make their family so brainy. She'd have to ask him later what the 'arktikserkle' was. 

 

“Daddy, Ray, I can put my feet down, take my hands, take my hands!”

 

Again, Daddy took one hand, Ray the other, and, like Mommy, they knelt in front of her. Looking down at her feet, she started moving them, one in front of the other. Daddy and Ray shuffled backward. “See?” she said. “I told you I could walk.”

 

“Yeah, you did,” Ray said. “Cool.”

 

“You clever girl,” Daddy said, and kissed her forehead. Cathy felt happy all over, and stumbled the last few steps into Daddy's arms. She reached out and grabbed Ray's hair. (All flat and wet, not spiky) and pulled him to them. Then she popped one kiss on Daddy's cheek, one kiss on Ray's cheek. 

 

“Thank you for taking me to the pool,” she said.

 

Ray looked, for a moment, as though he was going to cry, and she got frightened for a minute, thinking about when Mommy cried, and hoping he wouldn't get angry and take her home. Instead, he disappeared under the surface of the pool. When he rose again, he was spouting water from his mouth, and pulling a face. She squealed with laughter, and rolled away, kicking, and swimming. Daddy dove under her, and emerged in front of her, caught her, and spun her in the water so she flew out like a bird.

 

And between Daddy and Ray she completely forgot to be afraid, or sad. 

 

They stayed in the pool for a long forever time, and when they got out she was happy, and sleepy, and hungry. Frannie came with Daddy, to show him how to get her clean and ready for her wheelchair, and when she was dried and dressed, and had her bottle of juice and a banana, she started to go droopy in her seat. Cautiously he fastened her strap, so she wouldn't fall out. She felt again a careful kiss on her forehead as he tucked a blanket over her, and popped Teddy in her arms.

 

Just as she was dozing off, she remembered a question she wanted to ask him. She had seen a scar on his back, right where she had her 'bobo' as Mommy called it. Daddy had a bobo too. She'd have to ask him about it, later. Daddy had a bobo, and he could walk. Maybe one day she'd be able to walk too.


	5. All About Monogy Whatsit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser and Ray decide to relocate, Cathy needs a cuddle, and Fraser doesn't know who to hug first.

Fraser and Ray were sitting together, holding hands, when the social worker walked in.

 

“Corporal Fraser, and Mr Kowalski?”

 

Fraser registered a wince on Ray's face. He wasn't quite used to not being a detective any more. Since they'd moved to Canada he'd thought of applying to join the police force, (regular police, rather than RCMP... there was, he pointed out, no way that he would ever learn to ride a horse.) In the meantime, however, he had kept himself busy as a mechanic, mending pretty much anything that broke within a hundred mile radius. Although his work was vital, it did sometimes chafe him that Fraser was doing 'real work,' while he was tinkering around with engines. When officials called him 'Mr', it rankled. 

 

Fraser squeezed his hand, reassuringly. Ray squeezed back. 

 

“Yes, Ma'am,” Fraser responded, “that's us.”

 

“My name is Anna Thompson. Pleased to meet you. And you, Corporal Fraser. I understand that you are the child's biological father?”

 

“Yes.” Fraser felt a smile rising in him again. He'd known Cathy for five hours, and he already couldn't imagine life without her.

 

“And, you have only recently come to know of your daughter's existence?”

 

“That's right.”

 

“I see. In cases like this, we often have to consider why a woman might have hidden from the father. Is there any history of domestic abuse?”

 

“Hey, it's not like that,” Ray butted in. “She was a criminal. She was on the run from the law.”

 

“Mr Kowalski, I'm sorry, but I have to ask these questions.” The social worker didn't sound cross. Just tired, and rather put upon. “I know you're trying to help, but let your partner speak for himself.” 

 

Ray settled back in his seat. Fraser could see, from the corner of his eye, that he was scowling. Again, he squeezed his hand, and thought as firmly as he could 'don't worry, we'll be fine.' He knew he wasn't psychic, and Ray couldn't hear what he was thinking, but... well, it made him feel better. 'Don't worry, we'll be fine,' he thought again, and smiled.

 

“I'm sorry, Corporal,” the woman looked at him intently. “I just asked you a question about domestic violence. Why are you smiling?”

 

“Oh... I'm sorry,” he replied. “I keep...” what was the word? Good grief, he really did have a hole in his bag of marbles, at least today. He kept forgetting how to form sentences. My brain broke, he thought, slightly hysterically, as his face blossomed again in a smile. “I just met my daughter. I'm sorry, I can't stop smiling.”

 

Mrs Thompson looked at him closely, then smiled herself. “Well,” she said, “I have had a look at your record, and it's obvious that you are very well thought of professionally. And your partner here is right, the girl's mother was a criminal on the run, so domestic violence doesn't seem to be a likely factor in the break up. I must say though...” her voice drifted off thoughtfully. “I can't quite see what you had in common with her. How, exactly, did a Mountie end up having a baby with a...” she looked down and checked the notes again. Her eyebrows shot up. “With a bank robber?”

 

“It's... complicated.”

 

“I can imagine...” She looked back down at the notes, and shrugged. “Well, you appear to be clean. The only question my superiors are likely to be concerned about is whether you can provide a stable environment, and adequate health care. I take it...” she cleared her throat. “I take it that you are in a monogamous relationship?”

 

“Oh yeah, we're all about monogy whatsit. I mean... yeah.” Ray looked at Fraser, gave him a warm smile, and squeezed his hand again. 

 

“Yes,” Fraser confirmed. “We are in a stable, monogamous relationship.”

 

“He means, he's my sweetheart.” Ray laughed, and Fraser caught a trace of nervousness in it. There was still a fair bit of institutionalised homophobia. 

 

Mrs Thompson, however, seemed to share none of those prejudices. She smiled at them, approvingly. “Well, you certainly seem like a very strong couple, and I think your choice of career has proven that you're both responsible men. Really, all of this is just a formality, since Corporal Fraser is the father... but, there is one proviso.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Because she was left at a police station, there will be a hearing, and there's a risk... a very slight one... that she might be made a ward of the state if the Judge believes that she would be better off in care.”

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Ray said, and his fingers slid away from Fraser's hand. “What if we get a gay basher judge?”

 

'Don't worry, we'll be fine,' Fraser thought again, fiercely, as if he could send the thought out to the universe and make it so by sheer force of will. 'Don't worry... we'll be fine.'

“Don't be too concerned about that,” Mrs Thompson said. “I'll make sure to schedule you one of the more liberal guys. I have friends, and they can pull a few strings.”

 

“Thank you,” Fraser said, clasping his two hands together, and pressing them between his knees, to stop them from shaking. 

 

“But you will need to prove you can look after her physically. Get her to the hospitals she needs, do any physio, provide for her education, her social needs etc.” She looked at them, sympathetically. “Unfortunately, the fact that you work above the Arctic tree line is not in your favour...”

 

“I'll relocate,” Fraser said instantly. “I've already made enquiries with the RCMP. I could be relocated to Toronto, where there are plenty of good schools and hospitals, or there is a job opening up in the Consulate here. I do have choices...” He registered a flicker of surprise from Ray... fortunately held in check, so that the social worker didn't notice anything amiss. He knew he'd have to talk about this with Ray later, but right now, he was simply focussed on getting custody of Cathy. 

 

“Okay,” the woman said, approvingly. “I'm glad to see you're taking a proactive approach. And you, Mr Kowalski?”

 

“I...” Fraser could hear Ray thinking on his feet. “I am going to speak with my previous Lieutenant later today,” he said, “to discuss any job opportunities.” 

 

“Well, that's all very good. If you're both working full time, would you have time to look after her though?”

 

“We can arrange our shifts so that they overlap,” Fraser said, “and we'll still have plenty of time together with her as a family. And if we're in Chicago, we have a strong social network. You've already seen Ms Vecchio. Her family are good friends of ours, and very supportive.”

 

“Police work can be unpredictable,” she pointed out.

 

“I'll take a desk job,” Ray said, firmly, “and work part time, or the night shift, so there's always someone at home with her.” It was Fraser's turn to flinch with surprise. He knew how much Ray disliked working desk, and hated working nights. But Ray was grinning. “It'll be worth it, just to make sure she's okay,” he said, as though replying to Fraser's inner objection. Oh, good Lord, Fraser thought. Just when he thought his heart couldn't be any fuller, there was Ray being... beautiful. 

 

“My job will also be mainly administrative,” Fraser said, “and confined to office hours.” He cleared his throat. “Our first priority will be to provide our daughter with a stable home. And, our jobs will ensure that she has full medical coverage, and will get the best treatment available...”

 

The woman smiled. “Well, you have me convinced. The hearing is next week. I'll have you scheduled to appear before Judge Levy. He's a sound man, and he'll be fair. Good luck.”

 

“Thank you kindly.”

 

“Any time. I wish all my clients were as lovely as you.” She looked up at them, peering over her glasses. “Well, go on then, shoo. Your daughter's waiting outside with your friend. It's a sunny day. Go buy her ice cream.”

 

Ray grinned. “Awesome idea, don't you think, Frase?” He stood, leant over the table, and astonished Mrs Thompson by planting a kiss on her forehead. “You have a really great day, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she said, with a slightly dazed smile on her face as the two men left, hands linking again as they passed through the door.  
…

 

The instant Fraser saw Cathy, he knew she had been crying. Frannie was sitting next to her, reading a magazine, unperturbed, so it was obvious that Cathy had been crying quietly. That was a terrible thing to see. Kids her age shouldn't have learnt to cry quietly. What on earth had she been through? Fraser went down on his knees, and put his arms gently around her. 

 

“What's wrong, princess?”

 

“I thought,” and now that she was speaking anyone could hear the tears in her hiccuping breath, “I thought you and Ray had left me.”

 

“Oh, good Lord, no. No, we went to see a woman, we wanted to talk to her about keeping you forever.”

 

“Fraser,” Frannie's voice was tight, and frightened, “I didn't know she was awake...”

 

“It's okay,” Fraser managed to say through the lump in his throat, even though he didn't think it was okay at all, and was, in fact, shaking with fury that Frannie hadn't noticed Cathy's distress. Instead of giving into anger, he kept his eyes on his daughter. No point arguing in front of her, it would only scare her, and besides, Frannie really didn't mean any harm. “Cathy,” he said, “there is absolutely nothing in the world I want more than to have you living with me and Ray, so we can take you swimming, and get you into a nice school, and do all the things you need for you to be well.”

 

“Will you take me to the zoo?”

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

“You won't cry when we get to the polar bears?”

 

“When we... polar bears?” Fraser felt dizzy for a moment.

 

“Mommy cried when we got to the polar bears, and when they're on the television, she cries and changes channels.”

 

Oh... God. It hit him in a wave. Poor Victoria. Fraser blinked. He couldn't cry, it would give Cathy the wrong signal entirely. He pulled her to him, and hugged, his left hand curled around her back, bracing the weak spot, gently rubbing warmth into it. He blinked and breathed until the urge to cry had passed. 

 

“I won't cry at the polar bears,” he promised.

 

“When will you know if you can keep me?”

 

“Next week,” he said. He felt her shaking in his arms. 

 

“That's a forever long time away,” she said, sadly.

 

“I know,” he said, “but try not to worry. Nothing bad will happen.” He remembered saying that to someone else, when he first came to Chicago. Mrs Gómez, another parent fighting for her children. And he had been right. She was right to fight for her children, and everything had been all right in the end. He kissed Cathy's hair, and pulled back from the hug so he could smile at her. She was looking up at him with hope. “Nothing bad will happen,” he promised. “I'll do everything I can to make it right.”

 

“Thank you Daddy,” she whispered, and hugged him again. “I'd like to live with you and Ray.”

 

“That would be greatness, hedgehog,” said Ray, from behind Fraser. Fraser looked up, and there he was, Ray, grinning like a loon. “Don't worry, we'll be fine.” For a second he wondered who Ray was quoting, then with a start recognised his own thoughts from the interview with the social worker. Coincidence, surely? “Hey,” Ray continued, “you know it's my turn?”

 

“What?”

 

“Daddy got to carry you last time. Can I carry you now?”

 

“Yes, please,” she said shyly, and put her arms in the air.

 

Ray stooped down, and cradling her carefully, lifted her up. He looked at Fraser, looked at Frannie, looked back at Cathy, and didn't seem to know what to do with his grin. Cathy put her hand up, and tousled his hair.

 

“It is!” She sounded excited. “It's like a baby hedgehog, all soft prickly.”

 

“You're the baby hedgehog,” Ray said, and blew a fart noise on her cheek. She squealed with giggles. 

 

Fraser shared a happy helpless glance with Frannie, and looked back at his partner, and their child.

 

He didn't know who he wanted to kiss most, Cathy or Ray.

 

In the end, he just stepped up, put his arms around the two of them, and kissed them both.


	6. In Front Of Jesus No Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy is in danger of being Vecchiod, francophilia runs rampant, and nicknames are decided.

Frannie was driving, glancing at them in the back mirror, and smiling a lot. Pretty quiet for Frannie though... it was weird actually. But... yeah, he'd think about that later. Too much other stuff to think about. Cathy had been sleepy when they got to the car, and cried, saying she didn't want to go in a baby chair. Then she'd clenched up, and put her hands over her head, and said she was sorry, as though she thought they were going to hit her. God. What could you do? Ray had succumbed to her entreaties, and cuddled her instead. Fraser was perched anxiously next to them both, and glancing at Frannie to make sure she kept to the speed limit. For once Frannie was driving like a sane person. 

 

Fraser had already showed Ray where to rest his hand on Cathy's back, and in amongst all the happiness to be holding her, it kinda twisted in his gut that such a little girl should have a disability like that, and that... Jeez, that her bitch of a mother had hit her. Who'd hit a little sweetheart like Cathy? Poor Cathy, with a wound in her spine. He could feel the bulge in the small of her back, where it should curve inward. Cathy dozed off, snoring a little bit, and while she was snuffling on Ray's shoulder in the car Fraser finally relaxed enough to do his speed reading thing. He zipped through her notes, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb and muttering under his breath. When he finished, he sighed, and looked at Ray. 

 

“After Cathy was born,” he stated, sadly, “Victoria stayed put long enough for her to have an operation on her spine, to close the...” he stuttered, as though he was looking for a word Ray would understand, and he could bear to say. “To close the... hole. But once she was strong enough, Victoria moved on. And she's been moving them on, every few months, ever since.”

 

“Poor kid...”

 

“I think Victoria tried to do right by her,” Fraser said. “She left notes about the physio she's been trying to do with her, left her plenty of medication, medical files, x rays even. And... Cathy's clearly extremely well educated. Most children her age haven't even started school. Her mother must have read to her a great deal, for her to be as literate and well spoken as she is. And, her penmanship is very good.”

 

“Yeah, I saw that, when we were having burgers. You know that mat thing with the map on it? She did it real quick, and you notice her swapping hands? I think she's dextrose, sucrose, ambi...” Ray concentrated, and spat it out. “Ambidextrous.”

 

“Oh, that's interesting,” Fraser said, smiling. “So was my Grandfather Fraser.”

 

“I'm surprised you're not,” Ray snorted.

 

“Ah, not quite, no.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray waggled his eyebrows at Fraser, trying to see if he could make him laugh. “Even you can't be good at everything...”

 

At that point Cathy stirred in his arms, and started to wake up.

 

“Hey, little hedgehog,” Ray touched her forehead with his nose. “We're nearly at Ma's.”

 

She smiled at him blearily. “I'm sorry I'm so tired today. I keep falling asleep.”

 

“Yeah, well, it's been an exciting day. Look at me, I'm tired too.” Ray closed his eyes, and dropped his head, pretending to sleep, letting out dramatic snores. 

 

Cathy was giggling again. “You sound like a warthog.”

 

“How do you know what a warthog sounds like?”

 

“Mommy says I snore like a warthog when I've got a cold, and she does this...” Cathy crossed her eyes and made honking noises.

 

Awh, little darling, thought Ray. And yeah... maybe Fraser was right. Looked like the bitch of the ice and snow actually had tried to be a good mother, at least sometimes.

 

“So, wait... that means you're a hedgehog and a warthog? That's two hogs at the same time. I'm just gonna have to call you piggy wiggy.”

 

“You're the piggy wiggy,” Cathy's face was crinkling up in giggles, and Ray couldn't get over how much she looked like Fraser when she smiled. “Piggy wiggy.”

 

“No,” Fraser interjected, “he's too skinny to be a piggy wiggy. He's a skinny winny.”

 

“Yeah, you're piggy wiggy skinny hedgehog, I'm skinny sticky spike and your Daddy's...” Ray puzzled, trying to think of a suitable joke name for Fraser.

 

“Big mouth,” said Fraser, holding back a smile.

 

“Moulin a paroles,” said Cathy, solemnly.

 

“Hey, you speak French!” Fraser said, sounding delighted. “Tu parles très bien le français.”

 

“Pas très bien,” she replied. “Mon accent est... uhm, what's the word... affreux. Mon accent est affreux.”

 

“What the hell... I mean, what the heck are you two on about?”

 

“Cathy is telling me that she doesn't think her French accent is terribly good.”

 

“Daddy! I didn't say that. I said it was awful.”

 

“Hey, hedgehog, your French is a heck of a lot better than mine.” Ray shook his head. Yeah, just like her Dad. She would be good at languages.

 

Ma Vecchio was as happy as Ray had ever seen her. They were no sooner in the door than she was hugging them both, and telling them off for how skinny they were. Cathy was hanging around his neck, and his arm was getting sore from carrying her, which surprised him, 'cause she was such a little thing. Damned if he was gonna say anythin' about it though. It was just too much fun to have her wriggling away like a little spider monkey, nuzzling her head on his shoulder. Jeez, if Fraser felt anythin' like he did, then he was amazed he hadn't just exploded with all the happy in his head. He knew she wasn't 'his' kid, but God... she felt like it. 

 

The house was filling up with Vecchios, as it usually did this time of day, and Cathy was becoming increasingly quiet, the louder things got. “You sleepy?” She shook her head, and lifted her teddy to her mouth, started sucking his ear. “What's wrong, hedgehog?”

 

“Nothing,” she said in a little voice, and cuddled closer. “Can we sit next to Daddy?”

 

“Yeah, I'll park my ass... uhm...” He blushed. What was a better word than 'ass'? Bum. That was British, so it couldn't be too bad, could it? “Park my bum on the couch. And your Daddy can park his bum too.” He sat down, and called across. “Hey, Frase, your little girl requests your presence.”

 

Fraser came out of the kitchen, with a plate of cake. He still had that goofy grin on his face, like he'd had when they landed on that snow field in Canada, and his face had stuck. Like every time he saw Cathy he was thinking, 'I'm home.' Ray patted the couch seat. “Park your bum, Fraser.”

 

“Bum?” Fraser's eyes crinkled up in a laugh (and boy, he'd been doing a lot of that today). “I shall park my posterior, as requested.” He settled next to Ray, popping the cake on the arm of the couch, and turned, to look at Cathy. Yeah... definitely. The wind musta changed, the poor guy's face had got stuck or broken or something. Not that Ray was complaining. He'd never get sick of that smile. Fraser put out his arms, and Cathy wriggled across, so that she was between the two of them, then started burrowing, so they would move apart and let her snuggle between them. Fraser looked down at her, and a cloud of concern passed over his face. 

 

“Qu'est qu'il y a, ma petite princesse?”

 

“J'ai peure.”

 

Fraser's hand came up gently, and cupped his daughter's face. “Pourquoi?”

 

“Il y'a tante de monde ici.”

 

Oh yeah, Ray thought. Kid says her French is awful. Shoulda figured Fraser's kid would be a genius. Damn, he was proud of her.

 

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Fraser was speaking softly in English now.

 

Cathy nodded. “I'm not used to lots of people,” she confided, in a whisper. “It's always been just me, and Mommy, and...” her voice trailed off.

 

“And?” Ray couldn't stop himself. As soon as the word was out he realised he'd sounded harsh, and he also realised that maybe Cathy wasn't ready to say anything yet. She had pulled her teddy up over her face, and was hiding behind him now. “Hey, never mind... give me a minute.” He stood up. “Maria,” he called, “you guys got a quiet room?”

 

“In this house?” Maria was up to her elbows in pasta dough, and trying not to laugh as her own sproglings tugged on her apron strings. How many was that now? Sheesh... the house was full of kids. Ray narrowed his eyes to signal his urgency, and twitched his head to point out Cathy, curled up next to Fraser. Damn, Fraser could probably have told her in Italian, 'we need to rescue the kid before you guys Vecchio her to death!' All Ray could do was hope his expression was getting it across.

 

“Ah,” Maria raised her eyebrows, taking in the situation, and smiled. Yeah... the eye flash Kowalski code had worked. Ray relaxed. “You can go into Ma's parlour,” Angie said, “I can keep people out for you.”

 

“Thanks Maria, you're a saint.”

 

“Tell Tony,” she grumbled, and turned back to the dough.

 

“Hey, hedgehog,” Ray said, hunkering down and smiling at Cathy. “Guess what? We've got a nice quiet room we can go sit in. Would you like that?”

 

“Yes, please,” she whispered. Fraser turned and gathered her to his chest, and stood carefully, holding her like she was spun glass.

 

“You're tired, princess Cathy, aren't you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It's been a long day. I'd like to sit quiet as well.”

 

The two men stepped carefully away from the bustle of the Vecchio clan, and into the peaceful quiet of Ma's little parlour. As they shut the door, Cathy sighed with relief. 

 

“Better?”

 

“Yes, thank you.” And, just like that, she fell asleep on her Daddy's shoulder.

 

Ray stared at Fraser, and blinked, fiercely, wondering if his own eyes were shining too. He sat down, and Fraser sat next to him, holding his daughter in his arms.

 

“You broke your face,” Ray said.

 

“So did you.”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” Fraser leant toward him, kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For... making this possible. Being with me, making sure I didn't crack up.”

 

“Oh yeah... that.” Ray couldn't help it. He felt smug. “Well, that's just buddies, isn't it?”

 

“Buddies,” Fraser kissed him again, lightly, then snuggled back into the cushions, looking at the little girl. “Oh, good Lord, Ray. Look at us. We're Dads.”

 

“Yeah...” Jeez, he really had broke his face grinning. “You know,” Ray said, making himself comfortable too, “I always wanted a kid with Stella, but this is like... ten times more kinda brilliant.”

 

“Greatness,” Fraser said, softly, stroking his daughter's hair.

 

“Yeah... greatness.”

 

“Ray,” Fraser said, suddenly shy, “have I told you... how much I love you?”

 

“Yeah,” Ray found himself chuckling, and blushed. He dropped his voice, even though he wasn't actually saying anything wrong, and besides, the little angel was asleep. “Last night,” he said, “you told me last night.”

 

Fraser was blushing too, and biting his lip. “No, Ray... I do, I really do. I love you. I mean... I know... but... really. I just realised, I don't know if I ever said it before out of...” He glanced back down to check Cathy was still sleeping, and continued, in a low voice. “I don't know if I ever said it outside of the bedroom.”

 

“Course you have.”

 

“Not... properly. Not really...” 

 

“Yeah, well, you've said it now. In front of Jesus, no less.” Ray pointed at the picture of the Sacred Heart on the wall. “So, I know it's true. And besides.” Ray let the back of his hand drift over Fraser's face, knuckles trailing a delicate path across his jaw. His fingers hovered over Fraser's mouth, (God, he loved that mouth) and he touched the lips with his thumb. “Besides, Ben,” he whispered, "I always knew.”


	7. Equitable Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy learns that Daddy and Ray won't shout, Ray discovers that Cathy has eaten a dictionary, and that there's no Santa.

Cathy was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, because she was walking, and she wasn't in the water. First she was walking, then she was running, and her Daddy and Ray were running with her. Daddy had one hand, and Ray had the other, and then they were flying.

 

She liked this dream.

 

She looked down at her feet, and saw that she didn't have her shoes on, but that was all right, because they were flying, and she couldn't hurt her feet.

 

But then...

 

Then she realised that she'd lost Teddy, and she let go of Daddy and Ray, turning around to see where she had left him. As soon as she let go of the men's hands, she started to fall. 

 

It's a dream, she told herself, trying not to panic. She mustn't panic, because if she cried in her sleep Mommy got angry. I'm going to wake up. I've got to wake up.

 

She kept falling, and...

 

Oh, thank you, God. She'd landed in water. She started to try to swim, but it was the wrong kind of water. It was cold, and it smelled of wee and...

 

Cathy woke up in a panic, her worst fear confirmed. She bit her lip, and felt tears flooding down her face, but she didn't make a sound.

 

Daddy and Ray were still sitting next to her, and they both noticed at once. Ray put his hand behind her head, and petted her hair, and Daddy took her hand. “What's wrong, Cathy, my love?”

 

“I... I...” She hated this. It only happened when she was tired, and even though they'd put her in a diaper after swimming she'd really wanted to show how good she was so they'd still like her. She'd already gone on the potty once. She was a big girl, she shouldn't still need the... She looked up at the two men, and suddenly realised she could cry, and they wouldn't be angry. She started to sob. “I wet myself. I need my diaper changed.”

 

“That's all right, princess,” Daddy slid off the couch, kneeling at her feet, and took her two hands. He looked up at her with a gentle smile. “We can do that.”

 

“You're not angry?”

 

“Why would we be angry?”

 

“Because I'm a big girl, and I shouldn't wear diapers. I'm nearly five.”

 

“Princess,” Daddy said, stroking circles on the back of her hands with his big blunt thumbs. “You know, I was in hospital once, when my back was bad. And I couldn't move, or go to the toilet. And the nurses had to come in, and clean me. I was really upset about it... then I realised I was being silly.”

 

“Sometimes I poo myself,” she confessed. “Did you ever poo yourself?”

 

Daddy bit his lower lip, and glanced at Ray, then back at her. “Yes.” His voice cracked a little bit. “Yes, and, the first time it happened, and the nurse came and cleaned me up, I cried too.”

 

“Awh, Jeez, Ben,” Ray was staring. “I didn't know.”

 

“Ray... could you... you know,” Daddy was blushing, and it sounded like he was trying distract Ray from what he had just said. “The bag under her wheelchair? Could you grab it and bring it in here?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, course I will.” Ray stood up, his hand lingering for a moment on her hair, then he stooped, and to her surprise, kissed Daddy on the head. She smiled. 

 

“You're sweet,” she said. “You and Daddy are sweet. When I grow up, can I marry both of you?”

 

The two men burst into surprised laughter. Ray twinkled at her. “When you grow up,” he said, “you'll meet someone, and they'll have to be just PERFECT. And once they get past your Daddy and me, you'll be glad to marry them instead.”

 

Cathy tilted her head to one side, and smiled. “Okay.” She wriggled a little bit, uncomfortable in her wet pants.

 

“Ray, hurry up,” Daddy smiled. “She'll be getting cold.”

 

“Sure...” Ray moved so fast to get out of the room that it was like he'd vanished. 

 

Daddy lifted her hands and kissed them on the wrist again, like he was prince charming, and she was Cinderella. “Sweetheart,” he said, and her heart clutched, remembering that Mommy called her sweetheart too. “Sweetheart, you mustn't be afraid. You know, there's nothing you can ever do that will make me love you more than I do today, and there's nothing you can ever do that will make me love you less.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. The minute I saw you, I knew that I would love you forever. I'll never, ever stop loving you, no matter what.”

 

“Even if I poo myself?”

 

“Even if you poo yourself.” He smiled, and leant forward, nudged noses. She wriggled her face to smush up to him, and laughed. 

 

“Eskimo kisses,” she said. “Mommy used to do that too.”

 

“Did she do this?” Daddy grinned, and tickled her tummy. She squealed and wriggled, and laughed. He hugged her again, and kissed her on the hair. The door opened, and Ray stepped in, with the bag.

 

“You two having fun?”

 

“Daddy tickled me, and we did Eskimo kisses.”

 

“Inuit kisses,” Ray said, grinning.

 

“What's 'Inuit'?”

 

“Well, it's the proper word for Eskimo,” Ray said, smugly. “See? Your Daddy's been teaching me things. They don't like being called Eskimo, it used to mean... what did it mean Fraser... something like, cannibals?”

 

“Something like that. 'Inuit' means people,” Daddy said. “People prefer to be called people, rather than cannibals.”

 

“Are they cannibals?”

 

“Of course not,” Ray blurted out. “What would be the point of that?”

 

“How come you and Daddy know so much about Inoo.. its?” She tried the word out carefully on her tongue, to make sure she'd always remember it. People, she thought, it means people.

 

Ray was kneeling on the floor carefully rolling out her changing mat, and getting her things ready while he talked.

 

“Well, your Daddy grew up away in the big white north, where Santa lives...”

 

“There's no such thing as Santa,” she said, surprised that Ray would believe such a thing. He paused in what he was doing, and looked at her sadly. Oh dear. Poor Ray. She didn't realise that he didn't know.

 

“Awh, I know that," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "But I was looking forward to Christmas, taking you to see Santa.”

 

“Really?” She smiled. “You can still take me to see Santa. I've never gone to see a Santa before. I can pretend I believe in him for a little bit.”

 

“Okay, we can do that.” Ray was sounding choked, like something was caught in his throat. 

 

“Can we have a Christmas tree, like everybody else?”

 

“Of course we shall, princess,” Daddy smiled. “Now, you just lean forward, and I'll swing you over here, and... are you comfy?”

 

For a minute she remembered she'd wet herself, and she cringed a little bit with embarrassment. Then Ray was sitting by her head, talking again. 

 

“Yeah, we'll get a big Christmas tree, like one of those big Douglas Pines you get in Canada, and we'll get fairy lights for it, so it looks like it's covered in stars... and then... What do you think, Fraser, shall we get that, whatchumacallit, that cobywebby stuff that looks like it's gone frosty all over the tree?”

 

“That would be a fine idea, Ray,” Daddy said. “And we'll have to get the prettiest angel for the top of the tree.”

 

“Hey, we wont be able to do that,” Ray said seriously. “We've already got the prettiest angel here. We can't put Cathy on the top of the tree. What would be the sense in that?”

 

“You're absolutely right, Ray... that would make no sense at all. What was I thinking? Shall I get a princess instead?”

 

“Fraser, have you got a head injury? Cathy's our princess. We can't put her on top of the tree.”

 

“Well then, we'll just have to think of something else... how about a Chicago police man?”

 

“Nah, I think we should get a Mountie, in red serge, with his hat on... Hey, Cathy, guess what! Your Daddy was so excited this morning, he left his hat at the hotel. He's got the coolest hat.”

 

“I know,” Cathy said. “Mommy had a picture...”

 

Daddy froze for a moment, then carried on cleaning her up, and fastening her diaper. She hardly noticed, she was so distracted by the conversation.

 

“Your Mommy had a picture of your Daddy?” Ray sounded a bit... strange. Sad or angry, or something. Cathy panicked a little, and let her thumb drift up to her mouth. Ray wasn't angry with her though. She didn't know what it was, but she felt the need to explain. “I wasn't meant to see it, but she left it on the table one day, and I had a look.” She smiled. “You look nice in your red suit, Daddy.”

 

“Thank you, Cathy,” Daddy said, his voice sounding a bit rough. “Now, you're all cleaned up, and I was thinking... since the Vecchios have dinner ready... are you okay to come and eat with us? If there are still too many people we can always eat in here.”

 

“I'm all right now. I was just tired.”

 

“Okay then. Well, let's go.”

 

And just like that, Daddy was standing, with her in his arms, and Ray had tidied up her things, and absolutely nobody had shouted at her, or called her a stupid girl for peeing herself.

 

“Come on, pet pig,” Ray said. “Time for us to stuff our faces.”

 

She smiled. She liked 'pet pig.' “Piggy wiggy,” she replied. “You're a piggy wiggy, I'm a pet pig.”

 

“And your Daddy's a... what did she call you, Fraser?”

 

“A word mill.”

 

“A... what?”

 

“It's a French expression, somewhat like chatter box, for a person who spins words off into the air like a windmill.”

 

“Wow... well, that's you all over Fraser. Word mill!”

 

“That's what Mommy said about me,” Cathy hugged herself, delighted. She had something else in common with Daddy. “She said I never stopped talking, and she could listen to me all day.” At least, that was what Mommy said when she was happy. “Well, sometimes she'd tell me to shut up. But... you know.”

 

“Hey, curly locks,” Ray tousled her hair. “Let's just go stuff ourself with lasagne. Whatcha think?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And you sit between Daddy and me, and you can talk our ears off.”

 

“Does that sound like a plan?”

 

Cathy looked up at the men, solemnly, thinking about how Daddy normally talked to people. She crinkled her brow, trying to think of the most Daddy like sentence she could come out with.

 

“That sounds like an... equee... table, arrangement.”

 

Ray laughed. “Oh, Jeeze, Fraser, only your kid would say a thing like that!”

 

Cathy bit her lip, and felt her cheeks go pink with pride. Daddy squeezed her. “Je t'aime, princesse,” he said, and carried her through for dinner.  
…

 

Really, Fraser thought, as he sat in the spare bedroom that Cathy was sleeping in, really, he hadn't had any idea this morning what was going to happen. He'd thought he'd meet Cathy, they'd talk, he'd try to make a good first impression, and then they'd arrange to meet up the following day. For some reason it had never dawned on him that he could fall... oh good God, that he could fall head over heels in love like this. 

 

What a stupid man he was...

 

Ray had gone back to their hotel to pick up their belongings, and cancel their room. There was no way that they were going to leave Cathy now that they'd found her. Fraser put his hand to his chest, pressed the flat of his palm against it, feeling a physical pain as he remembered finding her weeping silently, when she'd woken up and he and Ray had not been there. He should have told her, he thought, before she fell asleep, that he and Ray were going to be gone a little while. Poor little girl... she'd been through so much. He was going to make sure that, when she next woke up, either he or Ray were there. He knew, of course, that they couldn't watch her sleep forever. But just for these first few nights, until they got a place of their own, and she had a room she could feel safe in, he and Ray were going to take it in shifts.

 

He stretched himself out on the floor, comfortably, and folded his hands across his abdomen. He knew that if there was the slightest change in her breathing he'd wake immediately. But right now... He smiled, and relaxed. Things were good. Everything was going to be all right. 'Don't worry, it will be fine,' he repeated to himself, and added, 'nothing bad will happen.'

 

Gently, he drifted off, the sound of his daughter's infant breathing filling his sleep.  
...

 

When Ray arrived back with the bags, Ma Vecchio stowed them away in the back parlour, where she had opened up the couch into a sofa bed. Ray smiled, and kissed her on the cheek as she finally made her way to her own well deserved rest. 

 

He stood, staring at the empty bed, and stepped out into the hall, to look across to where Fraser and Cathy were sleeping. He'd just have a peek...  
…

 

When Cathy woke up in the morning, Daddy and Ray were both asleep. Daddy was straight as a toy soldier, and smiling, and Ray was crumpled up onto the arm chair, looking like a rag doll who'd been dropped from a height.

 

She smiled, and hugged Teddy.

 

Today was going to be a beautiful day.


	8. Sweet Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayV comes home, and the hammer man makes his judgement.

“Frannie,” came her brother's voice, and she turned, smiling. 

 

“Ray,” she said, and stood up on tiptoe into his hug. He put his arms round her, and lifted so her feet swung for a moment.

 

“Titch,” he said, smiling, and popped her back on her feet. 

 

“Stretch,” she replied, and looked up at him. “Hey, have you lost weight?”

 

“Nah, I'm fine,” he shrugged it off. “You're turning into Ma. Every time you see someone... 'hey, eat, you're too skinny. Have more cannelloni, what, you don't like home cookin'?'”

 

Frannie laughed at Ray's imitation of their mother, as he put his arm around her and walked her to the exits. Still, he did look thin, even for Ray. 

 

Maybe he was just tired from the flight.  
…

 

“Not like that,” Ma said, shaking her head with exasperated affection. “You're so good at everything. How can you not braid a little girl's hair?”

 

“Hey, I think he's doin' a good job,” Ray said, “you look lovely, Cathy.”

 

Cathy kept pulling her lower lip under her top teeth, and wringing Teddy. If he was real, he'd have been throttled by now. “I've not... Mommy never did my hair like that. She'd do it up in bunches, or just comb it out.”

 

“And that's very pretty, but Daddy's learning how to make it even prettier.”

 

“Don't be silly, Ray,” Fraser said, through the hair grip in his teeth. “She couldn't possibly be any prettier.”

 

“Oh, yeah... what am I thinking? He's just learning to make you look a little bit...” Ray paused, trying to find the right phrase. Jeez, she really was pretty. “A little bit fairy tale.”

 

Despite Ma's fussing, Fraser completed his task, and sat back smiling. “Good Lord, look at you.”

 

“What?” Cathy's hands went up to her face and head, and she blushed.

“You're beautiful. Here, have a look at yourself.”

 

Cathy stared at herself in the hand mirror, and put her fingers to her lips. “Is that me,” she whispered.

 

Fraser had woven two slender braids through her hair, criss crossed, as though they were ribbons, and arranged the loose curls so they tumbled out like smoke. Ma Vecchio patted him on the shoulder.

 

“Not bad, for a man,” she said, and huffed off into the kitchen. She was probably just cross that she hadn't had to do anything.

 

“Hey, your Daddy's right,” Ray said. “You're not a hedgehog. You really are a princess.”

 

“I like being a hedgehog too,” she said to Ray. “But...” she smiled at her reflection. “I do look like a princess.”

 

“Well, yeah, 'course you do.”

 

“An unusually fine example of appearances reflecting reality.”

 

Ray snorted. “What he said.”

 

“Do you think your friend will like me?”

 

Ray plonked himself down on the floor, so he could look up at her. Poor kid. She was always asking things like that, as though she expected everyone to hate her. “Well, if he's gonna stay our friend, he'd better.” He grabbed her bare feet, and tickled, though he knew she couldn't feel it. “Don't worry, sweet knees,” he said, then bit his tongue. He'd tried to say 'sweetness,' and it had come out wrong.

 

“I don't like my knees,” she said. “I've got ugly legs.”

 

Ray stared at her, then at Fraser, shocked. He tried to say something, but damn... his words did that thing, disappeared on him. Sometimes words ran away with him, sometimes they ran away from him, and... shit. He didn't know what to say.

 

“Sweetheart,” Fraser said carefully, trying to keep the hurt in his eyes out of his voice, “your legs aren't ugly.”

 

“They're skinny,” Cathy said, “and they don't work.”

 

“Hey,” Ray got his words back. “What's wrong with skinny? I'm skinny. You don't think I'm ugly, do ya?”

 

“No,” she covered her face with her hands, and peeked through her fingers. “You're nearly as handsome as Daddy.”

 

“Wow... that's, uhm, whatchumacallit? Proper praise! 'Cause...” he leant toward her, conspiratorially and dropped his voice, “you do know your Daddy's the handsomest man in the world?”

 

“Yes,” she glanced at her Daddy, blushing. “But you're the second.”

 

“Hear that, Frase? I'm the best of the rest.”

 

“Regretfully, I have to disagree with you, Ray. You are, in fact, the best.”

 

“Hey, we'll argue about who's best later.” Ray waggled his eyebrows, and Cathy laughed. “Right now we've got a princess to, I dunno, de hedgehog.” He lifted a foot, gently pulling a sock on. Awh, poor kid, thinking she was ugly. He was glad he'd got his words muddled up now. “Come here, sweet knees,” he said, lifting the other foot, and giving it a kiss. “Let's get your shoes on.”  
…

 

Fraser stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself, anxiously. He had changed his mind three times, before deciding to wear his formal uniform for the court hearing. On the one hand, he thought it might make him look... well, odd. He was used to Americans thinking he was odd, but on this occasion he had to look like a pillar of the community. Not a... he tugged his collar, anxiously... not a cultural cliché. And a bright red one at that.

 

On the other hand, the red serge represented all that was admirable about the RCMP, and surely the judge would know that? By appearing in uniform, he was showing that he was part of a proud tradition, that he was...

 

His thoughts trailed off, and he stared at himself. Now that it came right down to it, he realised, with surprise, that he was scared.

 

“Stop worrying, Frase.” Ray stepped up behind him, looping his arms around his waist, and peered over his shoulder at their joint reflection. “You look gorgeous.”

 

“I don't want to look 'gorgeous.' I want to look... dependable. Trustworthy.”

 

“You're a Mountie, 'course you look trustworthy. You're like a big poster. 'Trust me, I'm a Canadian.' 'Canada. Land of the really nice guys.'” Ray glanced at his own reflection, and sighed. “Problem is me. I look like a lemon.” 

 

“You look fine, Ray.” It was Fraser's turn to be reassuring, and he put all his warmth into it. “You're just not used to wearing a suit.”

 

“Yeah, and I look like a man who's not used to wearing a suit. I mean... would you buy a car from that?” He gestured with his chin at the mirror. “Jeez... the hair. I look like a disrep... dodgy English teacher.”

 

Fraser pivoted in Ray's arms, and returned the loose embrace. “I like disreputable English teachers.”

 

“Yeah? Any naughty stories you want to tell me?”

 

“Not really. But maybe I could make one up for you later.”

 

Ray laughed, and patted him on the backside. “I'll hold you to that.”

 

“Understood.” Despite his worry, he was amused. Ray was good at that, stopping him from going off the rails, with just the right, or the wrong word.

 

“Come on,” Ray stepped back, and held out his hand, as though he was inviting him to dance. He looked as nervous as Fraser felt, but excited too. “What is it you said? 'Don't worry, we'll be fine.'”

 

Fraser looked at him, startled to hear his private mantra on Ray's lips. “I didn't say that...”

 

“No?” Ray shrugged, expressively. “Well, someone said it. Come on.” His hand was still outstretched. He wriggled his fingers, bounced on his heels. “Come on, up and at 'em.”

 

Fraser smiled, took Ray's hand. “Don't worry,” he repeated, “we'll be fine...”

 

“Yeah. Now come on, shift your Canadian ass. Cathy's in the car, and you know what Ma's like. Little old lady driver.” He grinned, tugged Fraser's arm. “Mush. Giddy up cowboy. Scoot.”

 

Fraser took a deep breath, and complied.  
…

 

It was the first time she'd ever seen Daddy in his red suit, and now that they were in the court building, she felt suddenly shy around him. He was standing up front, waiting, and he'd turned into a statue. It wasn't quite like when Mommy played dress up, because his face and hair were the same. You could still tell it was Daddy. But he looked... stern. She shivered. 

 

Ray was wearing different clothes too, but even though his hair was flat, like it was when they went swimming, you could still tell it was the same old funny Ray inside. He was standing next to her, waiting like Daddy to stand in front of the man with the hammer. Unlike Daddy he couldn't keep still. Cathy reached up and grabbed for his hand, caught his little finger instead and pulled. 

 

“Owch!” he said, pretending it hurt, and bent over, to stroke her cheek. 

 

His friendly face made her smile. “You've got ants in your pants,” she said, because she had heard Ma Vecchio say it, and it was funny. 

 

“Yeah, and itching powder in my socks.”

 

She giggled. 

 

“When this is over, we'll go and get something to eat somewhere, whatcha say?”

 

“I'm not hungry.”

 

“That's nerves. We'll all be hungry when we've stopped being nervous.”

 

“Ray...” She tugged his hand, and whispered, as she pulled him down.

 

“What is it, hedgehog?”

 

“Why's Daddy angry?”

 

“Daddy's not angry.”

 

“He looks... he looks funny. Like he's...” she couldn't think of the word, and it annoyed her, because she knew lots of words. She'd just started on N in the dictionary now. “He looks cross.” That wasn't the right word either, but it was all that she could think of.

 

“He's not cross... he's... frightened. He really really wants this to be over, so we can take you home forever, and we can start being a family.”

 

“Aren't we already a family?”

 

“Yeah, but we need that guy behind the desk on the big chair to give us a piece of paper.”

 

“What happens if he doesn't give us the piece of paper?”

 

“Then your Daddy holds him down while I make him eat his feet.”

 

She pulled Teddy up to her face, and giggled into his fur. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. Really.” He winked. “Don't worry, sweet knees, it's gonna be fine.” He looked behind her, and smiled, straightened up. “Look, here comes our friend Daddy's been telling you about.”

 

“The other Ray?”

 

“Yeah, Ma Vecchio's Ray.”

 

Cathy strained to see over the back of her chair. “Ouch,” she said, before she could stop herself.

 

“Hey, your back sore?”

 

“A little bit.”

 

“Do you want a cuddle?”

 

“Yes please,” she reached her arms up, confidently, and he lifted her to his hip, let her hang on tight. His hand was as nice as Daddy's on her sore back. She closed her eyes as he rubbed it, and the pain began to dissolve.

 

“Oh my God,” came a new voice, and she opened her eyes. A man was standing with Frannie, staring at her, blinking hard. For a second she was frightened. He was wearing really smart clothes, like Mommy's dress up friends. But, then she took a good look at his face, and realised that he wasn't like Mommy's dress up friends at all. His face looked like Daddy's and Ray's did, when she first saw them. Maybe that's why he was blinking. He looked like the sun was very bright. “Hey,” he said, “Cathy?” He smiled, and scrubbed his eyes. “They said you were pretty, but I didn't realise you'd be so beautiful.”

 

She wanted to shake his hand, like Mommy taught her, but she didn't want to let go of her Ray. She could still be polite. “You're very welcome. Ray Vecchio, I presume?”

 

The man looked at her Ray, and started laughing. “Oh, God,” he said, “she's a little Benny.” He looked back at her, with a big grin that reminded her of the Cheshire cat. “Yeah, I'm Ray Vecchio. And you're Benny's kid.” She nodded. “Well, I just had to fly here and see you for myself. So... can your Italian uncle have a kiss?”

 

She cocked her head to one side, and thought about it. He was a very nice man, she decided. She could tell from his green eyes. “Yes,” she said, and put her head forward, to kiss his cheek. He put a hand on her hair, and kissed her eyebrow by accident. She giggled. 

 

“Now you have to kiss the other one, or I'll be lopsided.”

 

“Sure thing, kid,” he said, and kissed the other eyebrow.

 

“Oh... shit.” Her Daddy's Ray, her Ray, was suddenly moving quickly. “Sorry, Vecchio, we're up... I've gotta go... you gotta go back in your chair, sweet knees.”

 

She dug her fingers into his jacket, and buried her face in his chest. She was frightened. What if the man with the hammer didn't give them the piece of paper? She might not be allowed to see Ray or Daddy again. She started crying, as quietly as she could, and hung on tight. “Let me stay, Ray,” she whispered.

 

“Okay, okay... don't worry honey.” His hand was still pressing a comforting circle on her sore back, and she relaxed a little bit. Her eyes were closed, because she didn't want to see the hammer man, but she could tell Ray had moved. She could smell Daddy standing next to him. Daddy smelt of soap. Ray smelled of that stuff he splashed on his face when he shaved. She breathed through her nose, so she could smell them. Please God, please God, please let the hammer man give them their piece of paper.

 

She was so clenched up, she couldn't even understand what people were saying. The hammer man spoke first. Then she heard Daddy's voice to her left, then Ray's voice. Her head was pushed up so hard against his chest now that she could hear his heart beat. Or, maybe it was her heart beat echoing in her head. She didn't know...

 

Suddenly, there was silence. Nervously, she unscrewed her eyes, and peered out at the hammer man. He didn't seem that scary. But he was looking straight at her.

 

He spoke again. “Did you understand the question?”

 

What question? She hadn't heard. 

 

The man sighed. “I'll ask it another way.” He gave her a kind look. “What would you like to do, Catherine? Do you know where you want to live?”

 

Her mouth was dry, but she managed to speak, just loud enough that the man could hear. “I'd like to stay with Daddy and Ray.”

 

The man nodded. Looked down at his papers. Looked up at her, at Daddy, at Ray. Smiled. 

 

“Well, some days I love my job,” he said. “I wish all my choices were so easy.” 

 

She was holding her breath. Did that mean...

 

“Take your daughter home.”

 

Behind her the Vecchios were cheering, making a noise that only Vecchios could. Daddy and Ray were hugging, and she was a Cathy sandwich for a moment, before Daddy scooped her in his arms and kissed her. And now he wasn't looking scary or cross at all. She kissed him back, and grabbed his ears. 

She loved her Daddy's smile.


	9. Chopping Onions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys make a splash, Cathy chops onions with her uncle, and RayK decides to kill RayV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Sexual Content.

It had been nearly two weeks since Fraser and Ray had been alone together, and here they were, standing in a stark, empty living room, trying to make their minds up if this apartment would be the one. 

 

Special build for a wheelchair, good. The doors were wider than normal, so as Cathy grew older, and into larger chairs she would be able to get through without banging her knuckles on wood. Low kitchen surfaces, so she would be able to use them, lower kitchen cupboards. She wouldn't be able to reach them yet, because she was so small, but as she got older they wouldn't prove a problem. No cupboards under the sink, so she could get right up to it, and her knees would go underneath. Not that they would be expecting her to wash the dishes, but there were all sorts of reasons she might want to use the sink. Fraser started folding paper boats and birds in his imagination, wondering if she'd like the floating ducks best, or the swans. Perhaps he could fashion a Loch Ness monster...

 

The bathroom was extremely good too. When she was a little bit older she would be able to manage it herself. And he was impressed by the fact that there were jacuzzi style jets in the bathtub. That would certainly help with her backache. 

 

“Whatcha think, Frase? Reckon this is it?”

 

Ray was smiling at him, one of his little boy smiles, tentative and hopeful. Fraser's mouth was dry. He was nervous, though he didn't quite know why. 

 

Was this the one? The place they were going to get together, all three of them, as a family? It was a huge choice. This wasn't like him and Ray moving in together. This was for Cathy, and they had to get it right. He tried to lick his lips, to get some saliva going, but... dear Lord, he didn't think he could speak.

 

“Frase?”

 

It hit him again. This was the first time they had been truly alone in, as Cathy would put it, 'a forever long time.' Now that they were here, just the two of them, it felt not at all as he had expected. It didn't feel comfortable or even familiar, but... strange. Frightening even. There was a little flutter of panic in Fraser's chest, as he thought of Cathy, perfectly safe in the Vecchios' care, but with neither himself nor Ray in shouting distance, for the first time since the day they met her. She seemed, not surprisingly, to have a severe case of separation anxiety. After all, it was not that long ago since her mother had abandoned her in a new city, in a police station. And it was only a few days ago that she had started sleeping through the night without crying in her sleep, or talking to her Mommy.

 

Fraser knew that at some point he would have to relax a little, trust her more, let her know it was safe to be with other people, and that he and Ray would always come back. He knew this, academically, logically. But in his heart, he didn't want to let her out of his sight. He was scared for her. And scared for... Honestly? Scared for him and Ray. Because, he knew Ray loved Cathy as much as he did, knew they were in this as a family. But how would Ray feel if he knew what Fraser was thinking now? That Fraser was feeling guilty for the simple fact of standing alone in a room with his best beloved? Would he think Fraser didn't want to be with him, any more? And sex. Would he feel able to... do that, with Cathy asleep in the house somewhere? Would he ever be able to stop thinking about her, worrying about her, for even a moment? Would it make him a bad father if he did?

 

How did parents do this? Negotiate the terrifying territories of love for their child, and love for their lover, without letting either love fall through their fingers?

 

His heart was too loud in his ears, and he couldn't remember how to slow it down. He was aware that he was panicking, dizzy, not just in his head, but in his chest, in the pins and needle tingle of his hands and feet.

 

He stared at Ray. Was this the place?

 

“Yes,” he managed to say, then stepped, almost lurching, toward Ray, grabbed on to him, and kissed. Ray's arms went around him, and they squeezed each other hard, drawing strength from each other's lips. The dizziness rose up, and for a moment he thought he would fall. Then he was breathing again, with one hand in Ray's hair, the other on his waist, and his cheek against his cheek. Ray was still clean shaven, his stubborn stubble not yet having had a chance to reassert itself since morning. His skin was warm, and almost felt smooth in the absence of its hair.

 

Oh, that felt good. Fraser rubbed his face against Ray's, enjoying the sensation of their skin touching. 

 

“Frase...” Ray's face might have been smooth, but his voice was rough, and Fraser started, as he recognised the longing in his tone. He shouldn't be startled though. This was natural, this was normal, and... he felt it too. His jeans were too tight on him, across the crotch, and he could feel his erection straining against the buttons, painfully confined. He could tell, from the smell, that Ray was similarly afflicted. Despite himself, his hand went down, and he pressed his palm along the bulge of Ray's (he smiled at the Ray expression) hard on. Ray groaned in the back of his throat, and pushed. Fraser turned his head slightly, and started licking Ray's ear, probing its delicate depths with his tongue.

 

“Ben...” Ray was moaning and thrusting against his hand now, and Fraser gleefully threaded his fingers and palm through the top of Ray's jeans, not releasing him at all, adding more pressure on Ray's poor, beleaguered hard on. Ray let out a gasp that was almost a cry as Fraser's grip slid down upon him and squeezed. His eyes shut and his head arched back, as though he was a blind man looking for the sky. Oh, good Lord, look at that. All that throat, all that neck... Fraser groaned himself, then started chuckling as he dipped his head against neck and nape, and nipped, and licked, and bit. Ray was bending backward now, as though they were dancing the tango, and Fraser had just dipped his partner into a low and graceful arch. But the grace went out of the instant as they landed on the floor, with a whumph, and giggles from Fraser as Ray went all Daddy Long Legs, grasping at him with convulsive urgency. I did that, Fraser thought, with astonished pride. Some days he still couldn't believe just how aroused Ray could become at a simple touch.

 

His own erection was beginning to bother him, aching as it did against the metal buttons (and really, he should follow Ray's example and buy jeans that zipped shut.) But for now... He slid his hand back out of Ray's jeans, and giggled again at the groan of frustration it engendered. 

 

“Don't worry, I'll show mercy,” he whispered in Ray's ear, unbuckling the belt, unpopping the top button, and pulling down the zip. He looked down, still chuckling, and saw Ray's bulge, hidden by his boxer shorts. Scooting down on his knees, he knelt above Ray, pulled down the boxers, and examined the smooth column of Ray's penis. He stopped laughing, and just gazed at it. 

 

“Fuck!” Ray snapped at him. “What you gonna do, paint a picture? Dammit, Frase, don't just look at it.”

 

“You have a very beautiful penis, Ray. I'm sorry, I was just admiring it.”

 

“Well, admire it with your hands, or your mouth...” Ray was glaring at him, and the fierce look on his face was doing funny things to Fraser's insides. “Unless you want to watch me?” Ray's long fingers were moving downward, speculatively.

 

“I'd admire that very much, but...” Fraser licked his lips. “I'd like to taste you.”

 

“Well, hurry up.” Ray closed his eyes with an expression akin to despair. “I'm dyin' here.”

 

“Understood.” Fraser bent his head over Ray, gently parted his teeth, gathered in the head, and licked around its smoothness. Ray was circumcised, a common practice, apparently, in America, and Fraser found the changed contours fascinating. He explored the shape of everything with his tongue, occasionally squeezing with his teeth, though never (good Lord no) biting. Gradually he slid down, until Ray was entirely engulfed, and the smell of his arousal was everywhere. He groaned in the back of his throat, as he suckled and teased Ray with his tongue and teeth. 

 

He was lying between Ray's legs now, still sucking, and his body was humping automatically, desperately on the floor. Once upon a time that kind of thing would have embarrassed him, the idea of his control cracking, of him thrusting like an animal, unable to stop himself. Perhaps it still did embarrass him, or would do when they were finished, but now... oh, now. The pain in his own groin was becoming exquisite and his thoughts were fluttering into nonsense as he pictured what Ray would do to him when it was his turn... So much pressure, and pain and bliss focussed on his own erection, and Ray's firm smoothness, gobbled up inside him, as though they were one and the same, would be one and the same forever. 

 

He could hear Ray's finger nails scrabbling against the polished floor, hear his feet banging as they convulsed against the wood. His hips were heaving up and down, as Fraser's hands went around to grab his (beautiful word) ass. He grasped one buttock in each hand, and squeezed, allowing his fingers tantalisingly close to Ray's rectum. Ray's hands were on his hair, practically pulling it, and...

 

Ray made the most beautiful noise as he came, an animal groan that simply spoke 'orgasm,' or 'fuck.' Fraser's mouth flooded, and there was a instant of ecstatic blindness, as his own body broke, and was released, spilling through him and over and...

 

Oh.

 

Ray was panting, his hands no longer grasping his hair, but smoothing through them, delicate and gentle. 

 

“Hey, Frase,” he said, “roll over. It's your turn.”

 

Fraser swallowed the last of Ray's come, and looked up, embarrassed. “I'm afraid that won't be necessary.”

 

“Oh, don't come that crap again,” Ray said, sounding mightily pissed off. “I might just take you up on it this time. Roll over.”

 

“Uhm... I'm afraid it's too late.”

 

“What?”

 

“I... appear to have made a mess of my clothing.”

 

“You mean you just came in your pants?”

 

“Uhm... yes. I... er...” Fraser was blushing all over, as his thoughts returned from the gulf. His inner voice was berating him for his abandon, and he couldn't quite figure out how on earth he was going to clean himself up, before they went to to see the landlord's agent. And oh, Good Lord, she was waiting outside in her car. What if she'd heard something, or guessed...

 

Ray sat up, and stared down at him. Fraser was still lying between his legs. “You mean to say, you enjoyed that so much I didn't even have to touch you to make you come?”

 

Fraser rolled over, sat next to Ray, and looked down at the spreading dampness on his jeans. Stared at it, and sniffed. 

 

“Jeez, Frase, you got it bad.”

 

“Well, it's scarcely my fault. You are, after all, a sex god.”

 

Ray laughed. “Freak. Listen, you need to go the bathroom, deal with as much of your 'problem' as you can. I'll, uh...” He pulled out some paper hankies. “You left a bit,” he smirked. “I'll clean up the floor.”

 

Fraser sprang to his feet, and fled to the bathroom. He cleaned as much of himself as he could, and scrubbed his jeans inside and out to mop up at least some of the mess. He stared at himself in the mirror. Ray had the most remarkable ability to just... what was the term... 'muss him up.' Biting back his rueful smile, he took off his shirt, and tied it around his waist, so that the sleeves covered his embarrassment. The white T-shirt he was wearing underneath was at least clean, although it was slightly frayed at the collar, and had a few small holes.

 

Good Lord, anyone with the slightest perspicacity could look at him and conclude that, as Ray might put it, he had been 'sexed up.'

 

Well. He had done his best. He would simply have to wear his Mountie mask, and pretend to be oblivious. 

 

When he got back out to the living room Ray seemed completely back to normal. He took one look at Fraser, and burst out laughing.

 

“Okay, you solved the problem of the wet patch, but Frase, you're gonna have to beat them off with a big stick when we get outside. You look like a porn star. You know, like this...” Ray put on a breathless starry eyed expression, lips slightly parted, eyes slightly hooded, and panted... all of which only served to make Fraser blush even further. 

 

“You mean to say, that my eyes are still dilated, I'm flushed, and I presume my lips are...”

 

“Wet. And really really sexy. If you hadn't just blown my brains out, I'd jump you right now.”

 

Fraser felt his penis twitch, and groaned. “That would... probably hurt.”

 

“You're a bit tender down there, are you?”

 

“That would be one way to put it.” His traitorous cock twitched again, and he looked down at his groin, angry. “Stop that now,” he addressed it, and rolled his eyes as Ray broke out in helpless laughter.

 

“Awh, buddy, I love you. First time you get me alone, what do you do? Jump Bogart all over me and come in your pants. You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He slung an arm over Fraser's shoulder, and squeezed. “Okay, so this is the one?”

 

“Yes,” Fraser blinked, as he suddenly remembered what they were doing there in the first place. Dear me, it actually was possible to be a Dad and still have a sex life. For a moment he felt tremendously grateful, then guilt came back. “Oh, good Lord, I hope Cathy's all right.” He had visions of her sitting crying, worried she'd been abandoned. He had no right to enjoy himself when...

 

“Hey, Frase, she'll be okay. She's with Ma, and she's with her Italian auntie and uncle. You know how much she loves Vecchio. Plus, she's all excited because we'll be coming home with Dief. So you just stop looking guilty.”

 

“I'll try.”

 

“Trust me, when we get back, you'll see it's all good.” Ray smiled. “Come on. Let's go sign a lease.”  
…

 

She was sitting up on her Uncle Ray's knee at the kitchen table, and chopping onions. For some reason, he was pinching her nose while she chopped. Well, not really chopped. Not by herself anyway. His left hand was pinching her nose, his right hand was helping her with the knife. He was a bit like Daddy really. It was like when they went swimming. Ray let her swim around and splash. Daddy kept hovering next to her like he didn't think she could swim at all. She sort of liked both those things. She liked that Daddy hovered about like a Momma duck. She liked that Ray trusted her. And she knew if anything bad happened they'd both dive in and save her.

 

But she couldn't quite figure out why chopping onions was dangerous. Or why Uncle Ray insisted on pinching her nose.

 

Eventually she decided to ask.

 

“Nuncle Way, why awh oo pinjig by dose?”

 

“To stop the onions from making you cry.”

 

“Oh.” She paused, and pondered. “Dat bakes do zense ad all.”

 

Uncle Ray laughed. “Your Daddy probably knows all the scientific reasons. All I know is, if you don't breathe through your nose, onions don't make you cry.”

 

“Can I dry ad...” she wrinkled her face, and said the word as clearly as she could, “eggsperiment?”

 

“You want to try an experiment? Why does that not surprise me?”

 

“Blease?”

 

“Okay. What experiment?”

 

She looked up at him, took her hand off the knife, and pulled his fingers off her nose. He looked at her, raised his eyebrows in a question, and gave one of his eloquent shrugs. She smiled.

 

“So, if I sniffed an onion it would make me cry?”

 

“Yes... hey, don't do that!”

 

Cathy pushed her face right up to the onions, and sniffed.

 

“Oh shit, Cathy, your Dad's gonna kill me!”

 

“Ow! Ow! Owey! They're spiky up my nose!”

 

“I told you!”

 

“You didn't tell me they'd be spiky, you said they'd make me cry.”

 

“That's how they make you cry, they're spiky up your nose.”

 

“Ow!” She was laughing, and tried to rub the tears from her eyes, but Uncle Ray got there first, with a white hanky. 

 

“Don't put your onion hand near your eyes, or it'll really hurt. Jeez... next time listen to your old Uncle, okay?”

 

“Okay!”

 

Uncle Ray gave her a kiss, while continuing to wipe her face with his left hand, the one that had been nowhere near onions. “You know, when a Vecchio tells you something about food, you listen to us, okay? This could have been even worse. You could have been chopping garlic or chilli.”

 

“Okay, I'll listen next time.”

 

“Good girl. Now, we need to wash your hands... some soapy water and lemon juice will get rid of the smell.”

 

They were sitting together on the counter next to the kitchen sink, Uncle Ray holding her hand under the tap, when her Daddy's Ray came bouncing into the room. 

 

“Hey Cath! Hey Vecchio... guess what? We've got Dief waiting in the car for a walk and...” his voice trailed off. “Awh, Jeez, what's wrong sweet knees, have you been crying?”

 

Wriggling with excitement she grinned at him. “I did an experiment. Uncle Ray said that if you breath an onion it makes you cry, so I gave them a big sniff, and it was really spiky in my head, and I started crying.”

 

Ray seemed to sag a little, and his anxious look gave way to amusement. “So, the only reason you're crying is because of chopped onions? Nothing else made you cry?”

 

“Why would I cry?” She put her fingers to her mouth to suck, then pulled them back out. Dear Lord, they still tasted oniony. And soapy, and lemony.

 

“No reason.”

 

“And he told me garlic and chilli does the same, so next time I'm not sniffing them.”

 

“Greatness. Glad to hear you don't make the same mistake twice.”

 

“So am I,” said Uncle Ray, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Cathy turned on his lap, and gave him a kiss. 

 

He grinned at her. “I'm fine, bambino. Hey, did you hear? They've got the Diefy doggy. Shall we go see him?”

“Yes!” She bounced with excitement, and turned to Ray, putting her arms up. “Can we see him now?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Ray picked her up, swung her into a sideways cuddle. He smiled at her uncle. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

 

“Any time,” Uncle Ray said, “I mean it.” He put one hand to his chest, pulled a face, and stood up. “Let's go see Dief. I've missed the mutt. See if he recognises me.”

 

“Sure he will.”

 

“Only if I bring donuts.”

 

Ray grinned. “Here. I bought them for Ma, but you can use 'em to bribe Dief.”

 

“Stanley, I could kiss you.”

 

“In your dreams.”

 

Cathy looked at the two men, puzzled. “Who's Stanley?”

 

There was a long silence, and her uncle started to chuckle. Ray narrowed his eyes, and gave him an evil glare.

 

“Aw, Jeez, Vecchio, I'm gonna kill you.”


	10. Shadow Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's RayK's turn to freak out, Fraser is from the eighteenth century, RayV gives a present, Cathy hates her baby chair, and the family move into their apartment.

Fuck, he thought, staring at the boxes, and thinking of everything they still had to buy. It's never fucking ending. How the hell are we gonna afford all this stuff?

 

The bed was the single most expensive item on the list, and had been delivered that morning. Their insurance covered some of it, but... fuck. 

 

“Ray?” 

 

Fraser's voice broke in on his thoughts, and he sighed, feeling like a bastard. He shouldn't be worrying about this. Wasn't he the one who kept telling Fraser everything would be all right, that nothing bad would happen? He was the optometrist, wasn't he? No, that wasn't right... optimist. Jeez, he couldn't even speak English, how was he gonna help look after a little girl?

 

“Ray?”

 

Just looking at all this... whatcha call it... junk, was bringing it home to him. Their belongings from Canada had finally made it south, and although there wasn't much, most of the clutter was his. And most of that was crap. And from now on he'd have to tidy up his crap, and pick things up off the floor so they didn't get in the way of a wheelchair. And he'd have to stop buying whatsits and thingumyjigs just 'cause they looked cool, and everything they got from now on, would have to be with Cathy in mind, and...

 

“Ray.”

 

… and he didn't have a job yet and...

 

“Ray!”

 

He blinked and snapped out of it. Fraser was standing in front of him, staring straight at him... and Jeez, how could you miss someone the size of Fraser when he was right in your face like that? 

 

“Are you all right, Ray?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry... I was having a bit of a...” He wasn't quite sure how to describe it, and shrugged.

 

“A bit of a freak out moment?”

 

“Yeah,” he laughed, apologetically. Freaking out was Fraser's job, his job was being the sane one. “Yeah, just... all this stuff. And, I mean, crap, look at the bed.”

 

“Well, admittedly, it does all look rather formidable, but it will be worth it.”

 

“It looks like we bought her something out of Star Trek, you know, one of those sickbay thingies they're always strapping Spock onto.”

 

Fraser looked at him blankly. 

 

“Jeez, Frase, and you're meant to be a man of culture. Didn't you have television growing up?”

 

“No.”

 

“I knew that. Stupid question. Oh, shit!”

 

“What?”

 

“You're rubbing off on me, I didn't even think...”

 

“What?” Fraser was starting to sound a little bit snippy, standing with his arms folded across his chest.

 

“We don't have a television.”

 

“We've never had a television.”

 

“Yeah, well, that's not my fault, is it? You know I wanted a television, we just didn't get round to it.”

 

“What do we need a television for? We have your music system, we have books...”

 

“Yeah yeah, and we have hands and a torch, so we can entertain her with shadow theatre. I get it Fraser, you're from, like, the eighteen hundreds. But we need to get her a TV.”

 

“I suppose if we are careful about what we let her watch it could be used for enrichment purposes...”

 

“Fuck's sake, Fraser, do I always have to be the fun Dad?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Fraser froze for an instant, as though he'd just been smacked, then turned, walked across the room, and started emptying boxes.

 

“Hey, Frase, I'm sorry...”

 

“No, no. You have a point. I'm not exactly cut out for fatherhood...”

 

Oh shit. Right now he didn't know if he was feeling sorry for Fraser, or if he wanted to slap him upside the head. 

 

“You know, Frase,” he said, tightly, “before I met you, I didn't even know what 'passive aggressive' meant.”

 

Fraser flicked a look at him, obviously biting back a retort.

 

“Go on, Frase, I'm a big boy. You got something to say, say it.”

 

Fraser opened his mouth, and hovered on the edge of some comment, before sighing, and letting his shoulders slump. “Could you help me get the side rails on the bed? We'll need the tools.”

 

“Fan fucking tastic. Come on, what happened to the row? I'm trying to piss you off, you bastard. You know you're never having sex again?”

 

Fraser gave half a smile, then mutely turned his attention back to the side rails, and the instruction manual. 

 

Ray glared, then started to chuckle. “I am so going to kill you when I get a chance.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

Yeah, well, that was something...

…

 

One day soon he was going to have to decide whether he was ever going back to Florida. Right now, though, he was enjoying Chicago, and family, and...

 

“Hey, Vecchio, thanks, you know, for this.” Kowalski was standing at the hood of the car, staring at the engine, appreciatively.

 

...and being helpful. Being around people who were glad to see him.

 

“Think nothing of it, Stan.”

 

“Yeah, don't spoil the moment. It'd look bad if I killed you now.”

 

He laughed. Kowalski wasn't that bad. He supposed he should be jealous or something, given that Stella was still obviously smitten with her ex (even if Kowalski didn't have a clue, and she didn't realise it herself) but somehow... Nah, he wasn't jealous any more. And wasn't it funny, he'd never been jealous of Kowalski and Stella? Weird, when he thought of it. He'd been jealous of Kowalski and Fraser. 

 

“Hey, Vecchio, you okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just thinking...”

 

“Don't strain yourself.” Kowalski grinned, then grew serious. “Nah, seriously, you okay? You look, you know...”

 

“Tired,” he said. “Just a little tired.”

 

“Hey,” Kowalski's eyes narrowed with attention. “I know tired, and I know pain. I've seen you, you know, kinda...” frustration flitted across his face as he tried to find the right word. “I've seen you kinda flinch. Wince, whatever. That bullet still hurting you?”

 

“The bullet's not even there any more.”

 

“I know, but the wound still is.”

 

Ray sighed. Kowalski might stumble over his words sometimes, but he was a clever man. Quite Benny's equal in smarts, though he'd never believe it. 

 

“Yeah, it still hurts some. Don't tell Benny.”

 

“He's not stupid. But he'll not hear it from me.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Listen, I know its none of my business, and it's not like I'm not glad to see you... but what's going on with you and Stella?”

 

Yeah, Kowalski really was a smart bastard. And, it must be pretty obvious, anyway. He was up here without his wife, after all. And... well, he needed to talk to someone. When you thought about it, really, who better than Kowalski? The guy knew Stella, so...

 

“Not much going on between me and Stella these days,” he admitted. “She's a bit... well, I suppose I am too...” He shrugged. “We're just hard work. And, I think she realised she made a mistake. The whole eloping to Florida thing...” He smiled, regretfully. “I can sort of see why I did it, I was on the rebound from my whole damned life. All that undercover crap. I just needed to run away. But... I never did figure out why Stella went along with it. Don't think she knows either. But, whatever. It was a mistake.”

 

“Awh, I'm sorry, Vecchio.”

 

“Don't be. You live and learn. When I told her I was coming up here to see you guys, I kinda hoped maybe she'd want to come up with me, but... she said it would give her time to think.” He took a breath, putting it into words for the first time. “Well, it gave me time to think too. I think we're done.”

 

Kowalski wiped the grease off his hands, carefully, and put an arm round Ray's shoulder. “I'm still sorry, Vecchio. I know I coulda killed you when you married her, but you know, I did hope it would work out. I knew you'd be good to her.”

 

“Yeah, good to her, but not good for her. I set her career back a hundred years.” He shut his eyes. “Bowling alley. What the fuck were we thinking?”

 

Kowalski started laughing. “Yeah, when Fraser told me that, I thought he was joking.”

 

“Yeah,” a chuckle was pushing its way up, and Ray found himself grinning at Kowalski. “Big cosmic joke.”

 

“Had a picture of her in my head, all smart, dressed up for court, in her high heels, flinging this great big bowling ball down the lane...”

 

“Awh, Jeez,” he bent over laughing, and put his hand up to the pain in his chest. What a picture... “Stop it, I'll cough up a lung.”

 

“Yeah... sorry.” Kowalski managed to stop laughing, and looked guilty. “Look, you sure you can afford to give us this?”

 

“Yeah, I've still got my police pension, and besides, I've a friend who looks out for me. Back in the day I needed a car mechanic on call. Fraser was always blowing up my riv.”

 

“Well, to be fair, that one time it was me.”

 

“Huh, well, you'd better look after this one. You want I should get you one of those stickers, 'baby on board'?”

 

“Cathy'd kill you, she's not a baby.”

 

Ray grinned, mischievously. “How about 'precious cargo'?”

 

“How about 'if you don't stop coming out with ideas for corny bumper stickers I'll shove this wrench up your ass?'”

 

Oh, Jeez... it was so funny it hurt. He clapped Kowalski appreciatively on the shoulder, put his hand to his chest, and tried not to laugh.  
…

 

“If you want to get in the car, you'll have to get in the special seat.”

 

Cathy folded her arms and pouted. “It's a baby seat, I'm not a baby.”

 

“It's not a baby seat, it's a special seat because of your bad back. And you know, you've got to start using it. Your Daddy nearly has a heart attack every time we get in a car, because he keeps thinking about what would happen if we crashed.”

 

“We won't crash, silly.”

 

“We could. Besides, you don't want to scare Daddy, do you?”

 

“Daddy's not scared of anything.”

 

“He's scared of you getting hurt.”

 

“I won't get hurt.”

 

“You won't get anywhere unless you get in that chair.”

 

“I hate you,” she snapped, and rolled out of the room.

 

She waited for a while, expecting Ray to follow her into Ma's nice parlour, but there was silence. She was cross, and she wanted... What did she want?

 

She wanted everything to stay the same. She wanted to still be living with all the Vecchios, and Daddy and Ray, and Dief, and she wanted not to have to move again. When she lived with Mommy they were always moving. Things were always changing. And she hated it. And she wanted... she wanted things to stay the same. She liked it here, and she was frightened, because she didn't know what the new apartment was like, and... what if it was like some of the places she and Mommy used to live in? When Mommy had run out of money, and couldn't stand to play dress up in hotels? What if the landlord came around and shouted, like landlords always did, and they had to run away in the middle of the night?

 

It was quiet in Ma's parlour. Why hadn't Ray followed her? Oh dear... what if... what if Ray believed her when she said she hated him? What if he'd gone? She rolled her chair around, and looked through the open door, frightened. Oh, thank you God. He was still there, looking at her. But his face was... all sad. 

 

“What's wrong,” she asked, and put her fingers in her mouth, nervously.

 

“You don't really hate me, do you Cathy?”

 

“No.” She didn't know why she'd said it. Sometimes, when it was really bad, she used to think she hated Mommy, but she was always too afraid to say so. Why would she say something like that to Ray though? Ray was lovely. He never smacked her, he never shouted. Poor Ray. She was a naughty girl. She'd said such a nasty thing. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Hey, hedgehog, don't cry. It's all right.”

 

“I'm sorry,” she said again, and covered her face in Teddy. Ray put his hand gently on her shoulder. 

 

“What's wrong? What's really wrong?”

 

“I'm scared.”

 

“What are you scared of?”

 

“The landlord won't come and shout at us?”

 

“What, our new landlord? Why would he shout?”

 

“I don't know. They shout.”

 

“Well, this guy won't shout. We'll pay our rent on time, he's got nothin' to shout about.”

 

“So we won't have to flit?”

 

“What's 'flit?'”

 

“You know, get up in the dark and run away.”

 

“No. We won't have to flit.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

“And it will be you, and me, and Daddy, and Dief?”

 

“Yes, sweet knees, it will be us.”

 

“And will I still get to see Uncle Ray and Frannie?”

 

“Yes. And Ma, and Maria, and all the kids.”

 

“Even fat Tony?”

 

“Yes,” he laughed, “even fat Tony.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.” He took her hands, and squeezed them, smiled. “Now, are you gonna get in the car, or do I have to tie you up?”

 

“Okay, I'll get in the horrible baby chair.”

 

Ray rolled his eyes. “Listen, I'll put you up in the front seat, so you can pretend to drive.”

 

“I'm on the wrong side to drive.”

 

“You can pretend you're driving in England. They all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

 

“Isn't that silly?”

 

“Yeah, well, they're English. They're as crazy as Canadians, so what do you expect?”

 

“I like Canadians,” she said solemnly. 

 

“Yeah? That's good. So do I. Come on, Cathy girl. Let's go home.”

 

Her lip wobbled a little bit. She was still scared. But Ray said it would be all right... 

 

“Okay.”  
…

 

He must have walked around the apartment a hundred times, touching everything, checking everything was safe for Cathy. 

 

Stop it, he told himself. Stop panicking. It's fine. Everything's fine.

 

He stopped, leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and breathed.

 

Fine. Everything's fine.

 

Outside, he could hear the new car pulling up. Doors opening, a little voice prattling, Ray laughing. The noise of the wheelchair coming out of the back seat, wheels being slotted back onto it. Cathy grumbling about the 'baby chair'. Thank God, Ray must have finally persuaded her to use it.

 

And now, the patter of Dief's feet, Ray and Cathy's voices coming down the hall. 

 

Family, he thought, my family are coming home. It was almost painful, the peculiar joy that rose in him. “My family,” he whispered. He pinched the bridge of his nose, high between his eyes, to stop any tears. In the hall he could hear Ray's voice. “Hey, Cathy, why don't you unlock it? Here's the key... you put it in there. That's right... twist... Good girl.” The door swung open, and Dief sprang through, running around the living room in a large circle. Cathy followed him, with Ray behind her, pushing. 

 

“Daddy!”

 

“Hi Cathy. What do you think?” He realised he was nipping his bottom lip. He tried to relax his face into a smile. She was looking blank. Oh good Lord, what if she didn't like it? He shared an anxious glance with Ray...

 

Then she grinned and started clapping.

 

“Daddy, Ray, I love it!”

 

Oh... he stepped forward and gave her a hug. Thank God.  
…

 

“You know, we're supposed to sleep in our bed,” Ray mumbled against his chest as they lay on the sofa together.

 

“I know,” Fraser smiled into his hair. “We'll get there... in a minute. I just need to... rest a minute.”

 

“Hmm. She likes it, doesn't she?”

 

“She certainly does...”

 

“You think Dief's her dog now?”

 

“I think she's his Cathy.”

 

“So long as he doesn't hog the blankets.”

 

“They looked snug enough to me.”

 

“Snug as a bug in a rug.”

 

“Snug as a Ray on a Fraser.”

 

“Stop talking crap.”

 

“Understood.”

 

Ray started snoring. Fraser wriggled, got comfortable, and fell asleep.


	11. Crying in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser discovers Tom and Jerry, Cathy disrespects the uniform, the Rays go for a drink, and bad dreams arise.

The first thing Ray heard when he opened the door to the apartment, was the sound of Fraser and Cathy laughing. Cathy's laughter was something he was used to, but he still wasn't quite used to the sound of Fraser laughing... well, outside the bedroom. He blushed, and smiled as he dropped his gym bag. Then he scowled, picked it up again, hung it on the rack with the coats. Talking about things he wasn't used to, he still hadn't got used to not being allowed to be a slob. He'd have to take his sweats to the laundry basket, but right now... jeez. He'd overdone it on the heavy bag. His arms were killing him. He'd clean up later. 

 

Fraser was still laughing. What the hell were they doing in there? Sounded like he was going to split his sides.

 

Opening the door to the living room he braced himself for the onslaught of Diefenbaker. “Hey, furface, nice to see you too...” He felt around in his pocket, and put his fingers to his lips as he pulled out a donut. Fraser would figure it out, but Cathy duties would probably distract him enough that he wouldn't tell Ray off too badly.

 

“What's so funny,” he asked as he made his way into the living room. Fraser was sprawled on the couch, with Cathy sitting on his belly, and they were both staring at... Hey! Who'd a thunk it? 

 

“Tom and Jerry,” Ray said smugly. “Told you we needed a television.” Fraser turned his head in Ray's direction, and brought one hand up to his eyes. He was... holy shit, he was laughing like a lunatic. Absolutely helpless. Laughing at a cartoon, for fuck's sake. 

 

“The mouse,” he said, “the mouse keeps hitting the cat with...”

 

“Yeah, that's what the mouse does. He hits the cat.”

 

“Yes, but...” 

 

“The cat's playing piano,” Cathy said proudly, wriggling her own. “Even though he doesn't have enough fingers.”

 

“And his little finger does this,” Fraser said, hiccuping as he tried not to laugh, and made a gesture with his whole hand, dancing it out to the side, and stretching out his pinkie.

 

“Yeah, yeah, it's a classic episode.”

 

“Actually, classic is overused as an adjective to describe...”

 

“Hey, don't spoil the moment Frase, just shift your a... bum.” Fraser lifted his legs. Ray grinned, and dropped onto the couch, letting Fraser flop his legs back across his lap. “You're still in your pumpkin pants,” he pointed out. 

 

“And braces,” said Cathy, with what, all things considered, was quite a naughty grin. “So I can do this.” She grabbed one of the braces, pulled and let go. “Boing!”

 

“Don't disrespect the uniform,” Fraser said, in an attempt to sound stern. The effect, however, was completely ruined by his continued laughter at the antics of Tom and Jerry on the television.

 

“Boing!”

 

Ray took pity on Fraser's predicament and grabbing Cathy slid her toward him. “Ray! You smell!”

 

“Yeah, I've been to the gym.”

 

“Well, the gym's smelly,” she said, and pulled a face before kissing him on the nose.

 

Fraser cracked up again. Ray winked at her, and made the same shush gesture at her that he'd made at Dief. Speaking of which... 

 

“Oooh, Donuts!”

 

They sat and ate donuts while Fraser continued to giggle helplessly at the television, his hands unconsciously playing an invisible piano. 

 

Yeah, thought Ray, smugly, enrichment my ass.

…

 

Cathy was responding well to routine, Fraser thought, as he picked up the last piece of lego. He was surprised, and pleased, that she enjoyed playing with lego and cars, as well as with dolls and toy animals. Unicorns, he thought, and shook his head bemused. Little pink ponies. The Vecchio cousins had introduced Cathy to things called 'my little ponies', and the execrable abominations appeared to have spilled into his living area like... what were those creatures in that Star Trek episode Ray made him watch last week? Tribbles. The apartment was filling up with toys as though they were expanding exponentially to fill all available space. 

 

Thank the Lord for tonka trucks, he thought. Not only did Cathy love them, Ray's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the first sight of the box Frannie brought over from the Vecchios. (Good Lord, Christmas was coming...) Full to the brim with toys. Including, apparently, 'classic tonka trucks.'

 

'Classic,' he thought. He simply couldn't understand why anyone would abuse the language so mercilessly. It wasn't that he was being a snob. He had occasionally misused the adjective himself (always with a sense of guilt.) His grandmother had disapproved when he called Dickens or Melville 'classics.' Even Shakespeare didn't make the cut. For Granny Fraser a classic was something written in Latin or Ancient Greek. He remembered her sharp tone of disapproval when he referred to a text in Koine Greek as being “classic.” Oh dear... He could just imagine her look of horror if she'd ever heard a child's toy, or (heaven forfend) a cartoon described in such terms.

 

His face quirked for a moment, remembering the antics of Tom and Jerry. Ray had been right about the television, of course. Perhaps, he thought, his smile fading, Ray was right that he should try to be more of a fun Dad. Was his own Dad ever fun? He couldn't remember... he thought not. They must have had fun once? No... the nearest to father son bonding that he could remember was that horrible, terrible camping trip, a month or two after... (he swallowed) after the funeral. At least, he consoled himself, he wasn't the kind of man to leave his child frightened in the dark. He certainly wasn't turning into his father.

 

Perhaps, good Lord, he was turning, not into his Father, but his Grandmother.

 

He shook his head, looking at the yellow block of lego, and dropped it in the box, put everything back in the toy corner. Ray had given him a definite 'look' when he mentioned the need for a toy corner. He finally accepted the wisdom of Fraser's suggestion after he'd trodden on something sharp for the third or fourth time. Besides, Cathy enjoyed tidying up at the end of the day. Fraser smiled. Tidying up with Cathy took three times as long as when he did it himself, but she had as much fun 'helping' as she had making the mess in the first place.

 

If only his worries could be as easily swept up at the end of the day.

 

In the kitchen he could hear Ray clattering around. Fraser had cooked today, which meant it was Ray's turn to clean up. After that they would have the evening to themselves. 

 

Fraser sighed. Apart from the unexpected “christening” they had given the apartment before signing the lease, they hadn't really had an opportunity for any intimacy since. Well... that wasn't quite true. They'd had the opportunity. They... no, be honest about this Fraser... he hadn't felt able to. It simply didn't feel right. 

 

So far Ray wasn't complaining, but Fraser wasn't stupid... nor was he insensitive. He knew that Ray must be feeling rejected. He knew how he would have felt had things been the other way round, if it had been Ray rebuffing his advances. But for the life of him, he couldn't think how to explain his behaviour, even to himself. Cathy was happy, she was sleeping through the night now, although she still, occasionally, cried in her sleep. He and Ray were passionate, certainly, but they were quite capable of keeping the noise down. There was no reason why they shouldn't be able to... except for him. Damn. He was uncomfortable even thinking the words. Sex. There was no reason why they shouldn't be able to have sex. It wasn't as if he had suddenly become incapable of it. This morning he had awakened before the alarm, painful with urgency, and groped toward Ray. Yet, the moment their lips parted and their tongues touched he froze. Ray, even sleepy early morning 'can't think till I've had a cup of coffee' Ray recognised the rejection in that flinch. He'd rolled on his back, grunted, and stumbled his way to the bathroom. And that was it.

 

Fraser wondered if he had jerked off in the shower, then flinched again at the expression 'jerked off.' 'Masturbate' was no better. 

 

Why was he feeling like this? The last time he had felt anything like this confused was during their 'quest', or more properly put, courtship, lying night after long night, listening to Ray breathing. Before the night they finally turned to each other and...

 

This was torture. He wanted to go into the kitchen right now, and push Ray up over the kitchen table and...

 

Damn.

 

As though he had caught the tenor of his thoughts, Ray came dancing into the living room, sliding in sideways like an ice skater on his stockinged feet, his hands shuffling along the horizontal, like a DJ rapper messing with LPs. See? He swallowed, and moistened his lips. He did listen to Ray. Ray caught his eye, grinned, and with a swivel of his hips he glided up to the stereo, and put on some low music. They had music every night, and tonight was Ray's choice. Latin from the sound of it... Ray's musical tastes were so different from his own, such a steep learning curve, so...

 

Sexy. (You can think the word, dammit. Sexy. Ray's music is sexy. Ray's sexy.)

 

“Hey, Frase, wanna dance?”

 

“I...” Fraser swallowed, uncomfortably aware of his growing erection. If he danced with Ray, Ray would surely recognise his affliction, and then... well, it would lead to another apparent rejection, and he didn't want to hurt Ray's feelings. “I'm tired. I'll...” oh Lord, what was he saying... “I'll watch.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray grinned, like a kid who'd just scored candy. He put his hand on Fraser's chest, and strutting toward him with a cocky flick of the hips, as though about to start a tango, backed him up to the couch. Fraser's calves hit the cushions, and he dropped. “You sit there,” Ray murmured, “and enjoy the show.” He clamped his hands on Fraser's shoulders, leaned in for a kiss. Fraser tilted his head back, breathless, and let Ray's tongue explore. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He's going to give me a heart attack, he thought, dimly. One day he's going to kiss me, and I'll just die... Ray pulled out of the kiss, allowing his tongue to linger for a moment longer than his lips. He was already breathing hard, staring at Fraser speculatively. “Sit there,” he said, gently, “like a good boy, with your hands on your lap, and don't do a thing till I tell you, okay?”

 

Fraser licked the roof of his mouth, where Ray's tongue wasn't. “Okay...”

 

Ray's tongue darted out again, licked his lips into a teasing smile. Then he started to dance.

 

Oh God, Fraser thought, watching him. He had filled up long ago, yet, if anything he was getting even harder. Thank goodness for pumpkin pants, he thought irrelevantly, a thread of laughter curling in his chest. No pain or constriction this time. His erection was standing full and free and... lonely. Without any conscious volition his fingers crept up his lap in the general direction of his groin.

 

“Hey, naughty! What did I say?” Ray leant down and grabbed Fraser's hands by the wrist. “You want something to do with your hands, I can think of something...”

 

Fraser was on his feet now, with Ray wrapped around him, close. The smell of him, warm, and sweaty from the gym, even after his shower, the firmness of limbs, his hands, (oh good Lord) his hands, his fingers... “Come on, Ben,” he was whispering, “let's see how clever your hands are...”

 

Fraser bit his lip, swallowed down his groan. Cathy was asleep, he didn't want her to hear...

 

Ray's hands were on the small of his back, one thumb glancing accidentally against his scar, sending a cold shiver. Then, his fingers were descending below the waist band, and then...

 

hands were, where...

 

fingers where...

 

Language fled. Incoherent, inchoate bubbles of nonsense rose and vanished, and Fraser was moving. Pushing, rocking, dancing. His hips had caught Ray's rhythm, and they were swaying together, push, rock, thrust, up against each other and...

 

“You found something to do with your hands,” Ray whispered, “good for you, oh, good for me, oh...”

 

Ray was hard in his hand, Ray's hand was hard on him, and the skin a beautiful glide, a beautiful slide in his hands, and...

 

Ray's hands. The music a liquid pulse between the two of them, and...

 

“Mommy.”

 

Cathy's voice was so little, coming through her bedroom walls, that perhaps Ray couldn't even hear it. But Fraser had. He froze, and felt himself wilt in Ray's hands, as the music became just music, and all the rhythm went out of their hips. He looked down at himself. Ray had unbuttoned him at the crotch, his shirt was hanging loose. His penis was going down like a flag after reveille. 

 

He cleared his throat, released his hand from Ray's member, too ashamed to look at him, and tucked in his shirt, put himself back together. Wiped his hands on his pants. From the corner of his eyes he caught a look of pain on Ray's face. And... 'don't disrespect the uniform', he heard his voice in his head, and blushed again. He went into the kitchen, and washed his hands with soap.

 

“Mommy,” Cathy said again. This time Ray heard her.

 

“Jeeze, Frase,” he said, his voice weak with relief, “I thought I'd done something, or you'd gone off me...”

 

“No... I...”

 

“Look, it was your idea to let her sleep through any nightmares.”

 

“I know, but...”

 

“If you want to go to her, that's fine.” Ray's voice sounded abrupt. “You don't have to be like, super Dad. It doesn't always have to be by the books.”

 

Fraser riffled mentally through all the child rearing books he could think of. He'd been reading obsessively for weeks now. He couldn't remember anyone ever going to comfort him when he'd had nightmares as a child. Not since his mother... And he couldn't even remember that clearly. Was that really her, in his memory, smoothing his hair? Had it been a nightmare, or a fever or... was it just something he'd wished for, something he'd dreamt? Cathy was having a nightmare. What the hell was he supposed to do?

 

“Mommy,” she whispered in her sleep again, and started crying.

 

Fraser flashed an alarmed look at Ray, and went to her. She was fast asleep, with tears on her face, hugging her Teddy.

 

He wasn't... he wasn't the kind of man to leave his child crying in the dark.

 

He sat by her bed, and took her sleeping hand.

 

“Cathy,” he whispered, “Princess... it will be all right.” 

 

“Daddy,” she whispered, still sleeping. Her face relaxed.

 

He sat with her for far longer than necessary, her little hand resting, curled up like a petal on his palm, and watched her sleep.  
…

 

Cathy was in his arms, waving through the window as Fraser set off for work, (and who else would jog to work in full uniform?) And Ray was grinning and waving too, and thinking, 'yeah, fucking excellent.' He was turning into the jealous needy wife in this damned relationship. How the hell did that happen? Fraser going off to work in the morning, a kiss goodbye at the door, and him staying at home being the Mommy.

 

And combing her hair: 'Daddy does it prettier'. And getting her dressed: 'Ray, can I wear the necklace we made?' And getting ready to go for their early morning walk: 'Ray, will you let me take pictures of Dief?' To all of which the answer was, 'yes'. 'Yes, Hedgehog,' 'of course you can honey,' 'whatever you like, sweet knees.' Jeez, one day he'd have to say 'no' to this kid, and it would probably kill him.

 

Not that he minded looking after Cathy, he thought, kneeling in front of her wheelchair, and making sure her shoes were laced up, her winter coat buttoned up, her hat and mittens on, making sure that she was safely strapped in, her feet securely placed on the foot rest. She was... Jesus Holy God, she was just beautiful. But.. crap. He was the housewife! Shopping for groceries, and getting it in the ear if he didn't get enough greens. “Children need fruit and vegetables, Ray...” When Fraser took his last posting, that kind of thing was bad enough. But he'd been out in the community, doing, well... 'manly' things. Huh. Manly, he mocked himself, yeah, that's me. In Canada his skills had been in demand. Fixing things, building things. And him and Fraser... yeah, they'd been good. Greatness. They'd been greatness. Not that this wasn't greatness now. Going for a walk with his daughter, watching her laugh and valiantly throw a ball about in the snow for Dief. But...

 

Sex. Jeez. If he didn't have sex soon, he was gonna blow up. He was doing his absolute best, but if Fraser didn't get his act together, then Ray would just have to sort himself out... and that would make him feel, what... unfaithful? He'd be thinking about Fraser the whole damn time, but still... he was trying to hang on for him. It was like some kinda stupid staring contest, only with their dicks. He barked out a laugh at that image, and stopped feeling sorry for himself. You couldn't feel sorry for yourself with the sun shining on the snow, with Cathy so happy, and Dief behaving like a big fluffy puppy instead of the big bad wolf. 

 

I should just take him out, he thought, later, dodging snowballs. Romance the big red bastard. We need a baby sitter...

 

Which is how he found himself sitting with Vecchio in a sports' bar watching the game, and spilling his guts like he was a teenage girl and Fraser was his high school sweetheart. Frannie and Cathy were happily on the way to the park for the second time that day ('ducks! Can I feed the ducks!' 'yeah, sweetie, then you can sit on my knee and we'll go on the swings...') and he felt as though a weight had gone off his shoulders.

 

And boy, did that make him feel like a piece of shit... Cathy wasn't a weight. Where did he get off, feeling relieved 'cause someone else was watching her for an hour or two? Even worse was the fact that Vecchio was being so damned understanding. Shit. Here he was, drinking overpriced flat coca cola, talking about his sex life (or lack of it) with Vecchio. How the hell did that happen? Since when had Vecchio been his drinking buddy? And since when did this crap count as a drink? 

 

“Hey,” Vecchio reassured him, “it's just new parent jitters. Everyone gets that.”

 

Ray took a gloomy sip of coke, and wished it was something stronger. “How the hell would you know? You never had a kid.” Yeah, he was being deliberately mean, but fuck's sake, this wasn't Oprah Winfrey. The Ray Vecchio talk show, everyone come talk to the understanding Italian Uncle, and...

 

Fuck. It slapped him between the eyes. He was jealous of Vecchio? He'd got over the Stella thing, so what the hell was this? He was jealous that Cathy loved Vecchio? What kinda stupid bastard was he anyway?

 

“Hey, sorry buddy...” He took his eyes off the flickering ball game, and looked at his companion. Shit... he went cold at the expression on the other man's face. Vecchio looked like he'd just heard his Ma had died. “Jeez... what did I say?” Oh crap, he thought, remembering. For whatever reason, that was completely the wrong thing to have said. Not just a cheap jibe, but a knife to the gut. “You all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Whatever the shadow had been on Vecchio's face, it slid right off, like water down a pane of glass. If he didn't know better he'd have thought the guy was all right.

 

“Look, what I said...”

 

“It's all right. You're right, I never had a kid. But I got loadsa kids running in and outa my life. Every parent I've ever known, every mother, every father, they all go through crap like this. And Benny, well... he's already got a shit loada crap to deal with. You just gotta be, I dunno, patient.”

 

“I'm not good at waiting,” Ray confessed wryly.

 

“Yeah, well, can't help you there, Stanley. But if you want a date night, we'll see if Cathy wants a night out too.”

 

“Whatcha mean?”

 

“I mean, kids her age... everyone needs a sleepover, dontcha think? How about Cathy and Maria's two youngest come over and build tents and forts in Ma's spare room, and Frannie and me stay up all night worrying about them for you instead?”

 

“Do you think... Jeez. I didn't think of that...”

 

“That's why everyone needs a bit more Vecchio in their life. We'll do the hospitality, you do Benny.”

 

Ray guffawed, then cursed as the cola exploded down his nose. “Don't need your permission, Vecchio.”

 

“Yeah, well, you got it. But you hurt him, I'll kill you.”

 

Awh, Jeez. He could almost have a crush on Vecchio, if he wasn't head over heels in love with Fraser.

 

“I'll never hurt him.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Vecchio reached out and squeezed his arm. “So, we'll go set it up with Ma and Maria. The kids are busy this weekend. I reckon, probably next Friday night? Give you a chance to book a fancy restaurant, whatever uptight Pollacks do when they're courting.”

 

A retort about uptight Italians hovered in the back of his head, but he shoved it away. Vecchio was trying to downplay his generosity with a façade of surliness. But generosity deserved gratitude. Fraser was rubbing off on him. Ray smiled, chinked his drink on Vecchio's coffee mug. “Thank you kindly,” he said. “You're a good friend.”

 

“Don't get mushy on me, Stanley. Shut up and watch the game.”  
…

 

Someone was crying. Cathy woke up, and thought at first that the somebody crying was her.

 

No. She wasn't crying. She hadn't even been dreaming. She'd been all warm, and snugly and asleep. Was it Mommy? Sometimes Mommy cried in the dark. But her voice was funny. No... it wasn't Mommy. It was too deep.

 

Daddy. Because the voice was a man's, and Mommy wasn't there any more. It wasn't Ray crying. She knew the voice. It was Daddy.

 

Daddy was crying in the dark.

 

Something cold scrabbled in her chest. Daddy was crying. Something bad, something very bad...

 

“Daddy,” she called out. “Ray!”

 

She heard footsteps, saw the light extend into her bedroom as the door opened. Ray came in, and flopped onto the chair beside her. She pushed the button on the wall, so that the back of her bed rose up, and she was sitting beside him. Then she grabbed Teddy, and hugged him tight. 

 

“You're awake, sweet knees?”

 

“Why's Daddy crying?”

 

“He's having a nightmare.”

 

Daddy had nightmares? “Daddy's not afraid of anything,” she whispered.

 

“He's sad sometimes.”

 

“What's he sad about?”

 

Ray sighed, and stroked her hair from her face. “He doesn't tell me.”

 

“Is he sad because I've come to live with you?”

 

“Oh, God, no. No, he's really happy you're with us. It's not that, Cathy. Don't ever think that.”

 

“Why don't you wake him up and ask him?”

 

“I... tried that once.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Ray's hand drifted to his face and rubbed his jaw, but he didn't answer. Instead he looked at the door. “I'm sorry he woke you up,” he said. “He'll settle down in a minute.”

 

Cathy snuggled under her blanket and waited. Daddy wasn't crying so loud now. 

 

“There, see Cathy? I told you. He's fine now.”

 

“You're sure?”

 

“I'm sure.”

 

Her eyes were heavy again. “And you're sure he loves me?”

 

“Cathy, he loves you. I love you. You're his princess, and you're my hedgehog. So don't worry about anything.” Ray leant over her, tucked her in, and pushed the button for her bed to go down. “So, sleep well.” There was the goodnight kiss again. She smiled. 

 

“And one for Teddy,” she reminded him.

 

“One for Teddy,” he replied, and kissed the bear.

 

The next morning, when she remembered Daddy crying, she assumed it had been a nightmare, and forgot about it.


	12. Hausfrau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayV offers a job to RayK, the boys have an argument, and Fraser hurts his back.

“Hey Benny.”

 

Fraser looked up in surprise, and grinned. “Ray,” he said, pressing save on his computer. “Come in... how are you doing?”

 

“Okay, Benny. I'm doing fine.”

 

“Good...” Still smiling at the sight of his friend he stood, and clicked off the monitor. “You've actually come at a good time. I should be taking lunch about now...”

 

“Yeah, I know you. You woulda worked through it if I hadn't turned up, am I right?” Fraser smiled ruefully. His Ray Vecchio knew him too well. 

 

“Well, perhaps. Since the approval of flexitime I have been attempting to accumulate as many hours as possible, so I can leave earlier and...”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know all about flexitime.” Ray was grinning at him easily. “Benefits of desk work.”

 

“Humph,” Fraser said, and blinked at himself, surprised to hear that he had allowed his dissatisfaction to bleed through in his voice. 

 

“Hey, Benny,” Ray voiced his sympathy. “I know it's hard. You're probably bored to tears.”

 

“Well, I wouldn't quite put it like that...”

 

“Yeah, I know you, Fraser. Right now, I bet there's nothing you'd like better than to jump out of a window onto a moving car.” 

 

“Oh, there are plenty of things I'd like better...”

 

“I'm sure. Lunch. How about that, for old time's sake? I'm buying.”

 

“I'll pay...”

 

“Come on, we gotta tradition going here. Keep your money in your hat.” 

 

And things were perfectly comfortable and familiar. Fraser smiled, grabbed his stetson. “Right you are, Ray.”

 

Over lunch (fries and burger, frightfully unhealthy, but really quite delicious) Ray outlined a plan.

 

“Listen, Benny, I know Kowalski's looking for work, and I thought... well, I thought I'd ask you first. Cause... I dunno if I should ask him, because, you know, we've got that Stella stuff to work through...”

 

“Go on, Ray. What are you asking?”

 

“Yeah, well... I'm setting up my own...” he laughed, “detective agency. Jeez, I feel like a Sam Spade novel.”

 

“Actually,” Fraser put down cup of milk, “that sounds like a fine idea. You certainly have the skills, the contacts...”

 

“Yeah. And the money.” He laughed. “My police pension is pretty good, should keep me going till business picks up.”

 

Fraser glanced down at his plate, feeling a twist of guilt at the reminder of his friend's enforced retirement. His collar was too tight. He tugged at it, uncomfortably.

 

“Hey, Benny, don't do that.” Ray's voice sounded stern. “You didn't shoot me.”

 

“No, but I...”

 

“Hey, you didn't shoot me. I'm the clown who stepped in front of the damned gun.”

 

“I know, I know... and...”

 

“If you say 'thank you' one more time, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you.”

 

Fraser tilted his head, managed a smile, and picked at the fries on his plate. Ray as detective... it made a lot of sense. But now that he was thinking about it, he could see some risks. Ray had been hurt before... would he be safe?

 

“Now I know you're feelin' bad. You're forgettin' to use your cutlery. You want Cathy to learn table manners like that?”

 

“No,” Fraser laughed, and brought the conversation back to its original topic. “So... you want to start off a detective agency?”

 

“Yes. And... I'm gonna need someone with some skills to help out...”

 

“I'm afraid that, between consular duties and looking after Cathy I'm fully spoken for.”

 

“Not you.” Ray paused. “Kowalski.” He put his hands up, quickly, before Fraser could object. “I've thought about it. We've both got experience of undercover work, he's a stand up guy, I know I can trust him, and he's looking for work.”

 

“Yes... that's all true...”

 

“Before you get to the 'but', think about it. Kowalski's been looking for work a few months now. And with his record, he shoulda got something by now. You ever wonder why that is?”

 

“Well, Welsh has just retired, so...”

 

“It's not Welsh. Yeah, if Welsh was still at the 27 he'd have got something for Kowalski. But he's not, and he can't, and it's gonna be a problem.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Look, Benny, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but...” Ray sighed, and passed his hand across his scalp. “It's the gay thing. Chicago PD isn't exactly a hotbed of tolerance. Even if Kowalski does get something eventually, which he probably would, he's still gonna be treated like shit.”

 

There was a long silence. Fraser looked at his hands. Finally, he spoke, surprised at how thin his voice sounded. “I imagine you have a point, Ray. I'm sorry I hadn't considered the ramifications...”

 

“Hey, don't worry Benny. You're not the jerk here. What I'm saying is... I need a guy, a stand-up guy. So, can I borrow your guy?”

 

Good Lord, Fraser thought, feeling his hands go sweaty. “He'd be safe? I mean... you both will, won't you? You won't...”

 

“Don't worry, we won't be setting fire to things, flooding things, all that crazy crap you did.”

 

You won't get yourselves shot, Fraser wanted to ask. “Cathy... Cathy needs Ray as much as she needs me.”

 

“Yeah, I know that. I get that. You know, most of what private dicks do is just divorce cases. We'll be fine.”

 

“Yes, I know...”

 

“So, if I ask him, whatcha think he'll do?”

 

“In what sense?”

 

“I mean, is he gonna kick me in the head for askin', or is he gonna say yes?”

 

“I don't know, Ray. You'll have to ask him.”

 

Ray nodded, and ate the last of his burger. Pointing with his fork at Fraser's remaining fries he asked, “you gonna finish them Benny?”

 

“Be my guest.” Fraser smiled, lifting the cup of milk to his face and hiding behind it as he drank the contents. 

 

He should be glad... he was glad... he was grateful even, that his first Ray would make such a gesture of friendship to his lover. But, somehow the conversation had brought back to him the fear he felt each time. Each time either of his Rays stepped in front of a gun for him, jumped on a train for him, jumped through glass for him.

 

He couldn't stand to lose either one of them again.  
…

 

Ray was really happy, and that made Cathy happy too. She had been making cookies with Ma while Ray and Uncle Ray talked in the living room. Then there had been a lot of laughing, and the two men swaggered into the kitchen together, with identical grins on their faces. Uncle Ray had started talking Italian to Ma, who put her hands up in the air and started arguing. Her Uncle had looked across at her, and winked, so that she knew it would be all right. The Vecchios did a lot of shouting, and it didn't scare her any more, because she knew they didn't mean anything by it.

 

“Hey, hedgehog, I've got some good news,” Ray said as he sat next to her at the table.

 

“What is it,” she asked, watching him help himself to the mixing bowl.

 

“Your Uncle Ray and me, we're going to be working together.”

 

“What, like Daddy works?”

 

“Nah, not like that. I'll still be round for you in the day, and we'll be going swimming, and feeding the ducks, and walking Dief. But when Daddy's home from work, and you're snuggled up in your bed, I'll get to help your Uncle Ray catch bad guys.”

 

“You mean like Batman?”

 

Ray laughed, and put cooky dough on his finger, blobbed it on her nose. “Nah, Batman's a nerd.”

 

“I like Batman,” she said, trying to wipe the chocolatey mess of her face, and making matters stickier, and worse.

 

“Batman sucks,” Ray said, then popped his hand in front of his mouth, looking shocked. “Sorry...”

 

“It's okay.” She giggled. It always made her laugh when Ray forgot himself and said a naughty word.

 

“Don't tell Daddy,” Ray said, and she frowned. Mommy used to ask her to keep secrets, and it made her kind of scared. 

 

“Why, what would happen if he found out?”

 

Ray looked at her, and his face changed. “Hey, nothing, nothing bad. I was just joking.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Yeah, it's okay.”

 

“So, Daddy will be pleased you got a job...”

 

“Yeah,” Ray grinned again. “Yeah, he will be.”  
…

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The music was up, that classical crap Fraser liked (and yeah, it wasn't crap, but right now it was driving him up the wall) and he kept his voice low so that Cathy wouldn't hear them arguing. When he'd checked on her a minute ago she was out like a light, and he wasn't going to be the one to wake her. “I thought you'd want me to get off my ass and get a fucking job. What's the big almighty objection to me working with Vecchio?”

 

“It's not that you're working with Ray, Ray...”

 

“What the fuck is it then?”

 

“I... I...” 

 

“You don't want the missus to get a job, is that it? Want a nice little house froo, froe, hoe, whatsit?”

 

“Hausfrau...” Fraser winced as he corrected him, “and no, I don't. I don't think of you as... as my wife, Ray.”

 

“Yeah? Then what am I? It's not like I'm your boyfriend any more. You can't stand to touch me. So what am I? Free babysitting?”

 

Fraser snapped into military stance, and glared at Ray. Finally. A damned honest response. Ray stepped right up to him, fists tight against his sides, and glared straight back. 

 

“It's scarcely baby sitting to care for one's own child, Ray.” Fraser was white faced, and thin lipped. “If you do, in fact, see Cathy as an onerous duty, then it's hardly my fault.”

 

“Oh, you fucker.” Ray's nails were biting into his palms, he was clenching them so hard. “You are so fucking full of it, Fraser. You think you're the only one who loves Cathy? Don't you fucking dare.” Fraser stood frozen, and blank faced. Say something, Ray thought, say something, damn you. Stop standing there like a fucking statue. “Fucking Mountie,” he carried on, his voice a whispered growl. “You walk around with that fucking Mountie mask on all the fucking time. Look at you, you're not even in uniform, and you can tell you're a tin fucking soldier. What the hell's underneath?” No fucking response. He shoved Fraser's shoulder with his fist, hard, too hard. Not quite a thump. Fraser stepped back. “Do I gotta fucking hit you just to get an answer? Cause I will.” He choked. He damned well was not going to cry. “I'll fucking hit you.”

 

Slowly Fraser brought his hands up to his face.

 

“What? Say something, dammit.”

 

“I... I...”

 

“What?”

 

Fraser dropped his hands, and stared at him. What the hell? He was crying.

 

“Awh, shit, don't you dare, Fraser. Don't you dare fucking cry at me...”

 

Fraser shook his head, turned on his heel, and was out of the door. 

 

Ray stood and stared, still shaking with anger and... something else. Guilt. He'd been fucking guilt tripped, again. What the hell...

 

He opened his hands, and stared at them. Little red crescents where his nails had dug in. What the hell was wrong with him? Cursing like that, pushing at Fraser, provoking him, trying to make him crack?

 

And... what the hell was wrong with Ben?  
...

 

'...tin fucking soldier, what the hell's underneath...' Ray's words stuttered in his head, repeating like physical blows, and Fraser kept walking, head down. Chicago winter. Not Territories cold, but cold nonetheless. The snow was wet. It wouldn't stick.

 

He should have put on his jacket at least.

 

The wind was cold on his face. His tears were cold on his face too, distinct from the snow. The snow melted on his skin, warmed, whereas his tears cooled. Tears and snow mingled on his face, and he was wet, all over. His heart hurt.

 

What the hell's underneath?

 

At this time of night the city was a different monster. He hated it. Hated it in the daytime, hated it in the night-time. Hated it, hated it. Hated the incessant noise of the city. The traffic noise, the traffic fumes, artificial light like a miasma, like an unholy fog, blotting out the stars. And people... people everywhere. A press of humanity everywhere you looked. Even when you didn't look, you could feel them, hear them, smell them. Human endurance, human suffering. Even this unpeopled alley that he was walking down. Look to the garbage, and you see the trace of pain. Used condoms scattered where the poor prostitutes had sold themselves, backs up against the walls. Used needles, scrumpled tinfoil, burned and blackened where the junkies had hidden behind the dumpsters, sniffing or shooting up. Poisoning themselves. And who, really, who could blame them? 

 

He paused, and looked around him. Good Lord, he'd walked a long way. He'd walked all the way back to his first neighbourhood in Chicago. He hugged himself, and shivered. 

 

This was what his Ray was getting back into... both his Rays. He saw again, Ray Vecchio, standing in front of a gun for him... twice. Falling. Bleeding. Saw his dear Kowalski jumping in front of a bullet, the very first day they met. They weren't safe. He made it not safe...

Stop it, he told himself, you're being ridiculous...

Magnet for weird. Who said that? Whoever said it, they had a point. Fraser seemed to attract disaster, to whoever he was close to, whoever he cared about. 

Stop it. That's just superstition. They can look after themselves, each other. They'll be fine. 

Will they? Really? Will they really be fine? The voice in his head that hated him said, 'It's like a disease with you. Love somebody, ruin their life...' Shut up! Stop. Stop. Stop it. They'll be fine. He'll be fine. Yes, Ray, his own, dear Ray Kowalski was excited to get work. It didn't mean he didn't love Cathy... Fraser should never have implied such a terrible thing. Ray needed to work, that was all. But...

 

It was dangerous. That was all it was. Ray was going to put himself in danger.

 

At times like this Fraser wished his father was still around. He tried to imagine what advice he might have given. Probably something utterly incomprehensible and unhelpful. He tried to smile, but his face was too stiff. He told himself it was the cold, and turned in the alley, to make his way back home. As he turned, he heard a banging, as though somebody had thrown something. In one of the apartments voices were arguing. He tensed. A woman crying, a man yelling... a slap. Just as his muscles bunched to spring into action a door opened, and a man was propelled from it, followed by clothes, and a bag. “Don't come back,” the woman shouted, and slammed the door. Fraser faded into the shadows, watching. The man yelled and banged on the door in an increasingly desultory fashion, before picking up his belongings and walking away. Fraser's shoulders slumped, and he started to walk again. 'Nothing to see here, folks, keep moving...' He tried to smile, and failed again.

 

It was really very cold.

 

By the time he got home he realised that Chicago cold was plenty cold enough. He opened the door softly, hoping Dief wouldn't come clattering across the floor, waking everybody up. The lights were low, and Dief didn't stir, which meant that he was probably happily ensconced on Cathy's bed. With a sigh he stooped, feeling his back twinge. Damn, his fingers were numb. He couldn't get his laces undone.

 

“Hey, Ben.” Fraser jerked upright, and felt his face twist as the muscles in his back pulled. 

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yes, yes, Ray, I'm fine.”

 

“Jeez, you're soaked. Is it raining out?”

 

“Snowing.”

 

“Fuck, Fraser, you've been out in the snow dressed like that? You really are a freak. Let me do that.”

 

Oh God. Fraser watched horrified, as Ray knelt down and started to untie the laces of his boots.

 

“You don't have to... please don't...”

 

“Hey, I'm not the one with blue fingers. What was that you said about proper preparation, and paying attention to the environment? You should take your own advice.”

 

He was shaking with more than cold now. Ray was... “Please, don't do that, Ray... you're not my...”

 

“It's okay...”

 

“You're not my hausfrau.”

 

“Yeah, well, just as well, I'd be shit at that. There you go. Kick 'em off now. I'll stuff 'em with newspaper, and you get into something dry, okay?” Ray looked up at him and smiled.

 

The warmth of that smile completely undid him. One moment he was staring down at Ray, the next he was on the floor, curled up in the corner, by the coats and shoes, juddering, (oh God, his back hurt) and crying into his knees. 

 

“What? Ben, for fuck's sake,” Ray sounded desperate, “what's wrong?”

 

“You... I... I don't want to lose you, Ray.”

 

“You're not gonna lose me...”

 

“If, if something happened, if anything happened I'd... I'd...” Oh God, he didn't think he'd survive it.

 

Ray was sitting up next to him now, arms around him, warm, and safe, and... 

 

Getting soaked. Fraser tried to push him away, but Ray hung on. “It's okay, Fraser, if it means that much to you, I'll not do it. I'll phone Vecchio in the morning, and say thanks, but no thanks...”

 

Fraser took a deep breath, and looked up at the ceiling, thumped his fist against his chest. Mea culpa, he thought, and rolled his eyes at himself, disgusted by his self pity. “It's not even a Wednesday,” he said. Ray's eyes were wide, not understanding. “Silly,” he tried to explain, “I'm being silly.”

 

“Hey, Frase, you're okay, you know, you're allowed to feel...”

 

“I'm sorry.” He turned his head, and looked at Ray. Good Lord, the man was beautiful. He put his hand up to the dear face, and traced the line of his chin. “I really am being ridiculous. You've been a policeman, you've worked undercover. You survived working with me. I know you'll be fine working with Ray. I'm just... being selfish.”

 

“It's not selfish to care about someone.”

 

“It's selfish to try to control them. I'm sorry, Ray. You need work, and you and Ray will be fine together.”

 

“You sure? Because, I don't have to...” Ray was trying to hide it, but hope was shining in his eyes. It was a terrifying thing to think that he could extinguish that hope. Terrifying to think that he was considering it, even just a little bit.

 

“You do have to do it,” Fraser corrected him, gently. “I know you, you'll turn down Ray's offer, because you're worried about me, and you think it's what I need. You'd do that, you'd do that for me. But I won't ask it. It's not like you'll be doing anything different from what you did before. And... you deserve it. You deserve to be more than...” he pulled a face, “you deserve to be more than my hausfrau. I don't expect you to sit at home waiting for me, to take my... to take my...” oh Lord, he was crying again, “to take my boots off.”

 

“Hey,” a warm kiss pressed up against his cold face. Ray's hands were on his jaw, turning his head toward him. “Look at me.”

 

Fraser looked. 

 

“Do I look like anyone's hausfroofoo?” 

 

“No...” A puff of laughter escaped, and the pain in his heart eased slightly.

 

“So. We'll sleep on it, and talk again in the morning.”

 

“Okay, Ray.”

 

“Let's get you dry.” Ray stood up, and held out his hand. Fraser smiled, took it, and tried to stand.

 

“Oh, good Lord.”

 

“What?”

 

“I think... I think my back's gone. I pulled a muscle...”

 

“Probably the cold.” Ray knelt, put his arms around Fraser. “Come on, arms around my neck. On the count of three...”

 

On three they managed to stand. 

 

“You okay?” Ray's concern was still there, but he was carefully trying to hide it. Ray could never hide his feelings, not from anyone. Certainly not from Fraser. But God bless him for trying.

 

“Yes,” Fraser lied, and smiled. “I'm fine. Just... bed. I need to go to bed.”

 

Usually that would have led to a flirtation at the very least. Instead, Ray looked at him gravely. “Okay. We can do that. Things'll be better in the morning.”


	13. Nothing to Worry About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayV goes Ma Vecchio on Fraser's ass and takes him to hospital, and Fraser makes a promise to RayK.

“Hey, Vecchio.”

 

“Yes, Stanley?”

 

There was a growl on the other end of the phone, but Ray wasn't fooled. Kowalski was trying not to laugh. “If I'm gonna be working with you, you have to stop that Stanley crap.”

 

“Why would that be, Stan? It's your name, isn't it?”

 

“Hey, stop messin' around. You busy right now?”

 

“Well, I was just checking some office space. You wanna come along? It'll only take an hour, and Frannie was asking if she could borrow your daughter. I think she wants to watch Sesame Street, and Cathy gives her an excuse.”

 

Kowalski laughed. “Yeah, that would be great, but actually, I won't be able to check things out with you today. Uhm... Frannie could be a real help though.”

 

“Why, what's going on?”

 

“Uhm... Fraser's not too good today. He's off work...”

 

“Jesus, he went and took my advice.”

 

“What?”

 

“He jumped on top of a truck, or out of a window, or set fire to something, or...” Ray heard himself ramble while flicking through possible disasters. It couldn't be anything too bad... Kowalski didn't sound all to pieces. 

 

“No, nothing like that,” Kowalski laughed, and Ray relaxed a fraction. Yeah, he reassured himself, Kowalski was laughing. It couldn't be that serious... “He hurt his back.”

 

Oh, Jesus.

 

“Hey, Vecchio, you there?”

 

“Yeah, Ray, I'm here...”

 

There was an odd silence on the phone, then Kowalski was speaking. “You called me 'Ray'. You all right there?”

 

“I'm... fine. His back, what happened?”

 

“Oh, shit!” Ray could hear the penny drop a mile off. Kowalski had just put two and two together. “Not like that, it's not... it's not where he was shot. He just... he pulled a muscle, that's all. He went for a walk in the snow, and his muscles got cold. Honest, that's all it is. It's not the first time he's had a bad back. Don't worry, Vecchio, it's not the bullet.”

 

“Okay,” Ray said, slowly. “If you say so. He got checked out by a doctor yet?”

 

“Not yet, he says he doesn't need one.”

 

“What, and you believe him? You know Benny. He'll run around blind, and bleeding from the head, and still insist everything's on the up and up. Get him to a doctor, Kowalski. And Frannie will take Cathy, so she's not scared or nothing. We'll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”

 

“Hey, Vecchio, I didn't mean to freak you out. But yeah, I'll get him to a doctor. And, you don't have to come, I can look after him you know...”

 

“See you in twenty.” Ray took the phone away from his ear, over Kowalski's continued objections, and snapped the thing shut, dropped it in his pocket.

 

Benny's back had gone. 

 

Fuck.

 

He put his hand to his chest, over the sharp pain in his lung, where the scar tissue caught his breath every damned time. It was worse when he panicked. So, don't panic. Breathe. He closed his eyes, winced, and gathered his calm, breathed in and out to a steady count until the pain had eased back to it's usual dull, but manageable proportions.

 

Okay. Fine. He was ready now.

 

He opened up his phone again, and called Frannie.

 

Twenty minutes later, as promised, he was parking up outside Fraser's apartment, and Frannie was gathering her crap. Little Cathy was waving at them through the window.

 

Okay. He could do this.

 

Jesus. Benny's back...  
…

 

“Honestly, I'm perfectly fine.” Fraser was walking stiffly, supported on either side by Ray and Vecchio, sounding pissy. Yeah, if he was pissy he was good. Ray tried smiling. 

 

“See? I told you he was fine. It's just backache.”

 

“He still needs to see a doctor,” Vecchio replied, managing to sound like every Polish, or Italian mother Ray had ever met. 

 

“If it will shut you up,” Fraser replied. And woah, right there... what the hell was that? That was not Fraser, not at all. Ray felt his jaw drop, then shut his mouth, tight. Fraser might do pissy, or snippy, or passive aggressive... but if he was doing rude then...

 

Damn. Vecchio was right. Ray glanced across at him, flashing a look of 'oh shit, we're in the crapper,' then glared at Fraser.

 

“Okay then, you lying bastard,” he declared. “How bad is it?”

 

“It's just a pulled muscle...”

 

“You just told Vecchio to shut up, and that's not buddies. So, either you pulled your polite muscle as well, or you're in a shit load of pain.”

 

“I am not in a shit load of...”

 

“You just said 'shit.'” 

 

Fraser bit his lower lip, and didn't say anything. Vecchio opened the passenger door, and between them they eased Fraser into the front passenger side. Ray was jittering, coiled tight with nervous energy. He could see his hands fluttering, not sure how to touch, or where.

 

“Smile, Benny,” Vecchio said, and waved at the window. Frannie was standing at the glass, with Cathy on her hip, looking like a modern day Madonna with a very cheeky child. Fraser smiled, and waved, and Cathy put her fingers to her lips, and blew a kiss. Fraser made a gesture, as if to catch it, then placed it carefully in his shirt pocket. Ray sighed, and sprang into the back seat. The car bounced, and Fraser grunted.

 

“Jeez, sorry Fraser...”

 

“If anybody says sorry again,” Fraser declared, “I will kill them. I won't want to, but I will.”

 

Fucking hell. It was probably an attempt at humour, but still... 

 

Vecchio leant across and buckled Fraser's belt. Fraser closed his eyes, looking grim, and said nothing. Vecchio returned the favour, gave Ray a worried glance through the rear view mirror, and started the car.  
...

 

The attending physician walked up to Fraser with a smile, and extended her hand. “Constable Fraser,” she said, “what have you done this time?”

 

Fraser smiled, tightly. He knew he should remember her name. Something to do with a horse. A Cyrillic diminutive? Ah.

 

“Doctor Konev,” he said, proffering his hand, painfully. The pain had spread overnight, from the small of his back all the way past his shoulders to his neck. Getting dressed this morning had been excruciating. He had waited till Ray was busy with Cathy, and allowed him to think that he was having a rare lie in. It took him over half an hour to make himself presentable, a further five for his eyes to stop watering. Despite any evidence to the contrary, he was absolutely not crying. He'd made enough of a fool of himself last night...

 

Eventually he managed to get to his feet and join the rest of the family in the living room. He sat, gingerly, with his arm around Cathy, and she snuggled up next to him, demanding the story of the Pirates, and the Mounties on the big old boat. Then, of course, Frannie and Uncle Ray arrived, and she was so excited that she didn't notice Daddy was walking funny.

 

Thank God. He wasn't looking forward to explaining this to his little girl.

 

The doctor was giving him a peculiar look. He stared back, then realised that his Rays were also, as per the vernacular, 'looking at him funny.' He realised that somebody must have said something, and he'd zoned out.

 

“Ah... I'm sorry. What did you say?”

 

“I was asking what you'd done to yourself.” She smiled again. “Thrown yourself onto a moving car, jumped out of a window?”

 

“Why is everyone always asking me that,” he snapped, then closed his eyes. He tried again. “I'm sorry. No, nothing like that. I just hurt my back.”

 

“Oh.” Her voice took on the same sharp tone that his Rays' had. She remembered his injury from the whole Victoria incident, of course, and no doubt was going to make a big thing of it too... He sighed, resigned to his fate. “Well, Constable,” she said, and laid her fingers on his sleeve. “We're going to have to do some Xrays of your spine, see if the bullet has shifted...”

 

“It's Corporal now,” Ray said, possessively. Fraser stifled a smile. Ray was jealous. He didn't have to be, but sometimes it warmed him a little. He knew it shouldn't, but it did. 

 

“Oh. Corporal.” She shuffled papers. “Well, since it's you, and since you'll probably try to walk out of here at the first opportunity, I'll shift you to the head of the queue. Lucky you got here early in the morning. The drunks aren't out killing each other yet, so for once we're not so busy.”  
…

 

Frannie was sitting on the floor, with Cathy on her lap, being introduced to the little pony collection, when the baby kicked for the first time.

 

Kicked. An unmistakeable, honest to goodness kick. Her hand flew to her heart, and she took in a deep breath. She'd felt flutters before, as though she literally had butterflies in her tummy. But this... she'd never felt anything like it before. 

 

“Oh my God,” she said, before she could stop herself. 

 

“What?” Cathy looked up at her, with a frightened expression. Poor kid. She could go from happy to frightened in a heartbeat.

 

Frannie smiled at her. It welled up in her, the desire to tell someone. And she was going to have to do it soon. Her Ma wasn't stupid.

 

She might as well share the moment with Cathy. It would make the little girl so happy.

 

“I've got really good news, Cathy.”

 

Cathy wriggled, and looked up at her, sucking her fingers. “What is it, Frannie?”

 

“You're the first person I've told. It's really special. So... are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I'm going to have a...” her voice faded for a moment, then she bent her head, and kissed Cathy's hair. “I'm going to have a baby.”

 

Cathy squealed with joy, and clapped her hands. Frannie hugged her. “You're going to be an Auntie. Well, more like a big sister, if you want. Will you like that?”

 

“Yes, yes, yes!”

 

A weight was off Frannie's chest now. It was real. She'd told somebody, and that somebody was delighted. 

 

Now all she had to do was tell the rest of the family...  
…

 

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Fraser said, pointedly, as he hobbled out of the hospital.”

 

“Hey, Benny, don't bite our heads off. And you're wrong, there is something to worry about if you can barely walk.”

 

“I'm walking fine now.”

 

“Only because she doped you up on painkillers and muscle relaxants.”

 

“The main thing,” he grunted as he slid into the car, “is that the bullet hasn't shifted, and the spinal column is still intact.”

 

“Yeah, but she did say about the scar tissue getting thicker and pressing on the...”

 

“Ray.”

 

“... spine eventually, and that you had to be careful, and...”

 

“Ray.”

 

“...you should pay attention to...”

 

“Ray.” He said it in his firmest, and warmest 'Ray Vecchio' voice. Ray stopped. 

 

“What, Benny?”

 

“It was an accident. Stop punishing yourself for it.”

 

Silence. Finally his other Ray broke in, mercifully changing the subject.

 

“Listen, you boys, I don't know about you, but I'm dyin' of hunger here. I reckon we go back home, rescue Frannie from the unicorns and pink monsters, and get something to eat.”

 

“Yeah... fine.” Ray Vecchio sounded relieved at the change of subject. “I'm cooking.”

 

“Greatness.”

 

“And,” Fraser added, “when Cathy's having her nap, I think you should both go and check out that office space. I'm sorry I've taken up so much of your day...”

 

“Hell, Benny. Why don't we all stop sayin' sorry, and just get the hell out of here? Hospitals give me the creeps.”

 

“Me too,” replied Ray, from the back. “Food. Come on. Belly belly.”

 

Fraser dropped his head back on the seat, already feeling woozy from the medication. 

 

“Food,” he said, drowsily. “An excellent idea.”  
…

 

Despite Fraser's insistence, nobody went to check on office space that day. When they arrived back at the apartment, Cathy was already taking her nap, and Frannie was standing nervously in the living room, hand across her belly. Ray helped Fraser across to the couch, then sat beside him, allowing him to slump on his shoulder. His back did seem less... starched somehow. But there was no way they were leaving him in charge of Cathy like this. Not only was he barely capable of moving without help, he was... well... stoned. 

 

Vecchio had his hand on his sister's arm, and was leading her to the kitchen. Huh... something up... They were doing that thing were they were arguing in Italian again. At least they were showing consideration for Cathy, and arguing under their breath.

 

Let them get on with it. If it was important he'd find out, eventually.

 

“Hey, Fraser, you can't be comfortable like that,” he said, turning his attention back to the warm weight leaning heavily against him. Fraser blinked, and tried to sit up. 

 

“Fuck,” he said, slurring slightly, and Ray felt his eyes widen. This really was a day of firsts... he'd heard Fraser say it, of course, but always as a suggestion, never as a curse. 

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

“Either I've got a head injury, or someone's spiked my drink,” Fraser said, and laughed. “Ow. I think I need to... close my eyes.”

 

“Yeah, you do that, Frase.” With a lot of grunting and painful twitching he eased Fraser into a recumbent position, following the doctor's advice, and lifted his legs, crooked them up, so they looked like an inverted letter V.

 

“Thank fuck,” Fraser muttered. “That's better...”

 

“Yeah, greatness. You just lie there, and don't do nothin', okay?”

 

“Lie here and look pretty.” Fraser opened his eyes, and gave him a frankly filthy look. Ray felt a twitch in his nether regions (and since when did he think of them as 'nether regions'? Something else to blame Fraser for.) 

 

“Not like that, you freak,” he said, trying not to grin lasciviously. (And there was another Fraser word... yeah, but damn, Frase was hot when he was stoned.) “We got company.”

 

“Tonight,” Fraser said, and drifted off.

 

Wow, Ray thought. Tonight? 

 

Nah... Fraser would forget all about it when he woke up. And even if he didn't, he couldn't do much with his bad back.

 

Still, for all that Ray felt a hopeful tingle in his fun zone. Fraser's libido was still alive and just dandy, thank you very much.

 

Greatness. 

 

The Vecchios had stopped arguing in the kitchen, and he could hear the sounds of cooking starting up. Frannie was singing quietly, and her brother joined in. Vecchio couldn't sing... though, surprisingly, Frannie could. 

 

Ray stood up, still smiling at Fraser's sleeping form. He closed his eyes, and rested his head on his chest, listened to that deep, slow heart beat. Fraser turned to him, and mumbled, his breath gusting against his hair. Ray snuggled. 

 

Fraser dropped his hand, warm and heavy, like a promise on his head.


	14. Be Vewy Vewy Qwiet...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy knows Frannie's secret, RayV creates evil anti pasta from outer space, Fraser is living in cartoon lala land, and RayK is too sexy for his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content.

When Cathy woke up the house smelled like the Vecchio's kitchen, and she smiled. Frannie was a very good cook, but Uncle Ray was an even better cook. She thought that it smelled like his cooking. 

 

“Hello,” she called, excited. “Hello house... Teddy wants his dinner.”

 

Ray came through to her, and she reached up to him. His hair was even hedgehoggier than usual. Sometimes it went like that when he was worried about something, and kept running his fingers through it. She frowned.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

He looked at her, smiled, and shook his head. “No, everything's fine, Cathy darling. Come here, sweet knees.” She wrapped her arms around him, and tucked her head under his chin. “Well,” he added, “your Daddy hurt his back, but he's fine.”

 

“Did he hurt his bobo? Will he need a wheelchair?”

 

Ray didn't say anything, and she looked up at him, chewing her lip. He had that look on his face that adults got when they wanted to not tell you something. Then it cleared, and she knew he'd tell her the truth. “His bobo does hurt, but it's not like your bobo. He won't need a wheelchair, but he's going to have trouble walking for a few days.”

 

“Poor Daddy,” Cathy put her head on Ray's chest. Then, suddenly, she brightened. “Oh, Ray! Frannie's got a surprise.”

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

“If I tell you it won't be a surprise.”

 

“Okay,” he laughed. “I'll let Frannie surprise me. Wouldn't be the first time.”

 

“It's a really good surprise,” Cathy snuggled.

 

“Okay, let's get you sitting up at the table.”

 

“Food, food, belly, belly,” she chanted, and Ray laughed. 

 

“Belly belly,” he replied, and took her through to the dining room.

 

“Uncle Ray,” she squealed. “I thought it was you.”

 

“Yeah, well, I couldn't resist cooking for the prettiest girl in Chicago.”

 

“Ooh, you did that pizza roly-poly thing.”

 

“I know how much you like it.”

 

Cathy looked solemnly up at Ray as he secured her to her chair, and started to explain. “You've got to make the pizza bread really, really, really skinny, and you brush it with olive oil, so it goes nice and crisp, and then you stuff it with the saucy bit and the cheese, and then when it's cooked you cut it up in slices, and then you get salad, and then you eat it with your hands.”

 

Ray looked at it approvingly... then raised his eyebrows, as he saw what else was on his plate.

 

“Vecchio, what the he...ck are bananas doing with ham?”

 

“It's an antipasto. You marinade the pork with bananas, onions, peppers and...”

 

“Yeah, but... it's bananas, with ham.”

 

“Don't knock it till you've tried it. Besides, I know you're not a big fan of the green stuff, and I thought Benny would approve of you getting some fruit.”

 

Ray sat at the table, with a dubious expression on his face. “Well, I'll try anything once...” He poked it with his fork. “So... er... this anti pasta. What is it, pasta's evil twin?”

 

Uncle Ray laughed. “Yeah, maybe. Hey,” he smacked Ray's hands, and sounded just like his Ma. “Don't eat till we're all sitting at the table.” Ray rolled his eyes.

 

“Fraser,” he called, “you gotta come and rescue me from Vecchio's anti pasta.”

 

“I'll get him,” Uncle Ray said, and stepped into the living room.

 

“So,” Ray said, “Cathy tells me you've got big news.”

 

“Yeah,” Frannie smiled, “but I'll wait till you're all here... oh, hello Fraser!”

 

Daddy was leaning on Uncle Ray's shoulder, walking stiffly. “Hi Frannie,” he said, braced himself on the table, and sat cautiously. He was smiley, but his eyes were a little bit funny, and he looked very tired.

 

“Daddy, what happened to your back?”

 

“It got cold, sweetness, and I pulled a muscle.”

 

“Poor Daddy.” Cathy wished she knew how to rub his back better, like when he rubbed her back better. Maybe it was magic. She was opening her mouth to ask when Ray spoke up again.

 

“So, Frannie, what's your big secret?”

 

Uncle Ray looked at his sister, and took her hand, squeezed it. Frannie blushed. Before she could speak though, Daddy replied.

 

“It's not a secret. She's pregnant.”

 

Silence fell, with a clang, as someone dropped a fork. Cathy looked at the grown ups, surprised. Why was nobody cheering? Uncle Ray was staring at Daddy, looking almost angry, Frannie was blushing with embarrassment, and Ray looked surprised. But nobody had gone 'woohoo,' or 'yay', or even smiled yet.

 

Oh, that wasn't true. Daddy was smiling. “Congratulations,” he said.

 

“Benny,” Uncle Ray asked, tersely, “how long have you known?”

 

“Since we got back to Chicago.”

 

“And you didn't say anything.”

 

“It didn't seem to be my place. I assumed that when Frannie wanted to tell people she would.”

 

“Yeah? Well, you just jumped right in and told everybody...”

 

“Oh, good Lord,” Daddy's eyes went wider. “I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Frannie...”

 

“It's all right, Fraser,” she said, and looked at her plate. “I wasn't quite sure how to say it anyway.” She glanced at the other adults, and cleared her throat. “Uhm... how many other people know?”

 

“I didn't know,” Ray said. “If Fraser didn't tell me he didn't tell anybody. So, don't worry, Fran. And you know Fraser, he's like, psychic or something.” He looked at Daddy curiously. “So, how did you know? Cause she still doesn't look pregnant to me...”

 

“Well, a woman's body odour changes when her body prepares to lactate so...”

 

“Jeez, Benny, you're disgusting,” Uncle Ray burst in. “That's my sister you're talking about...”

 

“Oh God,” Frannie covered her face. “I must stink...”

 

“Not at all,” Daddy looked confused. “You smell delightful...”

 

“Hey, shut your mouth,” Uncle Ray said, “and eat.”

 

Daddy looked even more confused. “That would be a physical impossibility, Ray.”

 

Everyone at the table looked at Daddy. And suddenly everyone was laughing, even Cathy, and she wasn't even sure what the joke was. 

 

“Jeez, Benny,” her uncle had relaxed, his green eyes twinkling. “Give me some of those drugs you're on. You're high as a kite...”

 

Ooh, that was one of those interesting things adults said that made no sense. She wondered what it meant.

 

“I suppose I am,” Daddy said vaguely, then grinned at his plate. “Oh, porchetta...”

 

“It's bananas and ham, Fraser,” Ray said. “Anti pasta from outer space...”

 

“It's delicious.” Daddy must be very hungry, because the way he was holding his fork made it look like a shovel.

 

“Yeah?” Ray tentatively speared some of his food, sniffed, tasted and swallowed. “Holy shi... sugar. He's right. Vecchio, you're like the evil genius of food. How do you do that?”

 

“It's talent,” Frannie said, proudly. “It's in the Vecchio family genes.”

 

Cathy took a bite of Aunty's Pasta. She wondered which of his aunties taught Uncle Ray how to make it. She'd only ever seen their photos, but they looked nice. “Yum,” she said, smacking her lips at the banana ham, and pushed her fork at Teddy so that he could taste it too.  
…

 

Cathy was worn out with excitement, and fell asleep early, before Ray even had a chance to finish the story about saving Daddy with a motorbike. He kissed her on the forehead and tucked her in. Even though she was asleep, her hand went up to his face, and patted. Then she put her fingers in her mouth, and snored. He smiled, stroked her cheek, and left her with her night light on low. He'd never have thought a little girl snoring would break his heart with how perfect it was. She looked too cute to snore, but the fact that she did just made her even cuter.

 

When he returned to the living room, Fraser was flat on his back, legs crooked, also snoring. He had insisted on helping Ray with Cathy's bath, resulting in a flare up of the back pain. One moment he had been dunking rubber ducks under the water, the next he turned white as paper. Reluctantly, he allowed Ray to conclude the bedtime ritual, finally being persuaded to take a second dose of painkillers. Oh well, Ray thought. He wasn't getting lucky tonight then. He chuckled. Bit of a pipe dream anyway. Time to get his stoned boyfriend to bed. 

 

“Come on, Frase,” he said, bending down, “it's that time. Pitter patter.”

 

Fraser opened his eyes, startled, tried to sit up, and flopped his head back down. “Where are we going?”

 

“Bed.”

 

“Oh. Bed.” Fraser was definitely giving him 'the look.'

 

“Hey, none of that.” Jeez, his tongue was poking out the crooked corner of his mouth, a moist red tease... Ray swallowed, tried to ignore it, and stated, as firmly as he could, “we can't do anything tonight. You'll kill your back.”

 

Fraser pouted. Oh, damn... Ray froze for a moment, feeling himself harden, watching that perfect lower lip, plump, and kissable, or even nibbleable...

 

Crap.

 

“Don't you want to?”

 

Ray's arms had slid around Fraser, and Fraser was... well, he wasn't hanging on for support. He was...

 

“Hey, hands up!”

 

Fraser put his arms over his head, as though Ray was pointing a gun at him, and chuckled, low and filthy. Fuck's sake, thought Ray, at this rate I won't be able to walk either.

 

“Not like that, you freak. I mean hands higher than my ass. So I can get you off this couch...”

 

“'And so to bed,'” Fraser declared, “and there to entertain you with great content.”

 

“You're in corry whatsit.”

 

“Incorrigible. And you're delightful.”

 

“Yeah... do I smell of breast milk then?” Ray chuckled as he hoisted Fraser to his feet. “Jeez, I can't believe what you said to Frannie! And I can't believe Vecchio didn't slap you.”

 

“Hm.” Fraser leaned against him, sniffed. “You don't smell milky, but you do smell very good.”

 

“Come on you drunk bastard. Let's get you to bed.”

 

“And so, again, to bed, and there to entertain...”

 

“What the hell are you on about?” Ray was trying not to laugh, and trying even harder not to give any sign of how turned on he was.

 

“Of course,” Fraser expounded as they reached the bedroom door, “Pepys was entertaining a wench, so it's not quite the same thing...”

 

“Did you just say 'wench'? You just said 'wench'... What century are you in Fraser?”

 

“Oh, not that long ago. Eighteen... something.”

 

“Figures.” 

 

“Pepys, oh, good Lord, can you imagine being called Pepys? Peepsy. Poops.”

 

Ray didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but stoned Fraser was pretty fucking funny. And, if he didn't stop rubbing up against him Ray might just have to take matters in hand...

 

Stop thinking like that! Fuck. He shouldn't find this so damned sexy. Frustrated with himself, Ray bumped the door open with his bottom, and towed Fraser, like a tugboat, to the bed. Fraser dropped, groaned, and rolled onto his side. “Boots off,” Ray muttered. 

 

“No!” Fraser raised his voice, and kicked his feet away. “You're not my house froo froo.”

 

“What the hell?” Ray was chewing his lip now, trying to keep the laughter in. “Keep your voice down, Cathy's asleep.”

 

“Sorry,” Fraser dropped his voice. “You're right, we'll have to be vewy vewy qwiet...”

 

It was the Elmer Fudd impersonation that did it. Ray cracked up. When he finally stopped laughing, he had tears in his eyes. Fraser was still lying on his side, with such a happy smile on his face that...

 

Fuck it. Well, no, not fuck, cause that couldn't happen... but... Ray couldn't look at that smile and not kiss it.  
…

 

He'd made Ray laugh. Greatness. Goodness. Cool. And, good Lord, Ray looked sweet, laughing like that. So, maybe Ray didn't want to do anything else, but Fraser was happy as a clam (how do they know clams are happy? They don't look happy, who decided they were happy?) 

 

Oh, hello... this was greatness too. Kiss. Sloppy, warm, wet kiss. Maybe Ray could be persuaded... “You taste good,” Fraser whispered, stroking hedgehog hair. (How come he'd never noticed before Cathy said it that Ray was a hedgehog? Headhog. Hedgehog.) 

 

“I taste of bananas and ham...”

 

“'Sam I am...'”

 

“Oh, for the love of God, not Dr Seuss!”

 

“Come to bed, Ray.”

 

“Not until you get your boots off.”

 

“Anything else you want to get off?”

 

“Fraser!”

 

“All right then, you may divest me of my clothes.” He closed his eyes, and sighed, feeling Ray's hands on him. “I'm entirely at your disposal.” Boots first, then socks, then... “Hello, nurse!” He chuckled. He had cartoons in his head for some reason... “You've gone for the pants...”

 

“I'm just getting you ready for bed.” Ray's voice sounded ragged. 

 

“And so to bed...”

 

“Yeah, yeah... stop quoting that pee pee guy.”

 

Pee pee. Pipi. French wee wee. Fraser laughed. “'I have a quote for every occasion. It saves original thinking.'”

 

Ray was unbuttoning his shirt now. He could feel his breath on his face, slightly heavier than usual. Fraser opened his eyes.

 

“Oh, Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray.”

 

“What?”

 

“You're too sexy for your shirt.”

 

“Jeez, Fraser,” Ray's face was crinkling up into laughter again. “I don't know what I'm gonna do with you...”

 

“I have a suggestion.” Fraser hooked a hand behind Ray's head, drew him down, and whispered in his ear. Ray pulled back, and glared at him, mock angry. 

 

“What sort of boy do you think I am?”

 

“I know exactly what kind of boy you are... Come on. I'm naked, and you've got too many clothes on.” He giggled. “Get your kit off.”

 

Ray stood up, smirked. “I suppose we can be careful of your back...”

 

“Yes,” Fraser crowed quietly, “I knew you could be persuaded.”

 

Ray looked at him speculatively, and his smirk became the lusty grin that was just for Fraser. All sex and promise. He started unbuttoning. Fraser carefully positioned himself on his back, so that one leg was crooked up, relieving the pain somewhat, and folded his arms behind his head. Ray's expression was becoming more intensely feral by the second, and he didn't take his eyes off him. One by one the clothes came off, and dropped to the floor. Scruffy, untidy, and his grandmother's voice was telling him to fold things up... go away Granny, I'm having sex here... never mind, they could tidy up in the morning... there was a wrong time for neatness after all.

 

“Like what you see, Frase?” Ray was standing naked before him, slender hipped, lean muscled, and perfectly erect.

 

“Bring your cocky self over here,” Fraser licked his lips.

 

Ray settled on the bed gently, and lay on his left hand side, snug alongside him. Feet by his feet, groin by his hips, face to face. “What do you want, Ben? Tell me what you want.” His voice was a cracked whisper, the shake in his breath a tremolo as he spoke. 

 

“You. I want you.” His hand curled around Ray's beautiful length. He groaned. They both groaned. Quietly, quietly... Everything was goodness here. Even being so quiet, so still. “I missed this,” he confided, resting his fingers on Ray's face, and beginning to slide the other hand gently, slowly, up and down. “The glide of you, the slide of you, the smell of you, the touch...” He moved his face into a kiss, keeping his eyes open to watch for the moment... Ray's face was changing. His eyes rolling up in his head, his throat, that throat as his head went back. He could tell that Ray was trying not to thrust into his hand, was trying not to jerk or cause him any pain. “So sexy,” he whispered, feeling the effort in Ray's hips to control themselves, the shake. And the pulse, the pulse in his throat, the quickening, the hitch in his breath. “Come on,” he breathed into his skin, “come for me, Ray, come for me, beloved, come on, let me see you, let me see you come...”

 

There, there it was, oh, beautiful. Something like bliss, like pain, swept slowly over Ray's face, a flush, blush, and mouth... mouth open, an oh, and... he swallowed the moan of it... quiet, so quiet... Fraser shushed him, stroked him through the sweet slowness of it, feeling wetness blossom against his side.

 

Ray's eyes were open, and he was staring at him, still shaking. “Oh, God, Ben... Ben...”

 

“Who's the sex god now?”

 

Ray breathed out laughter. “You are, Frase, you are...” He started to move down, licking his lips, eyes fixed on Fraser's erection. Fraser looked at it, surprised. He'd been so engrossed that he had barely noticed it...

 

“Ray... no, don't...”

 

“Is that our new game,” Ray teased, “you say no, 'cause you know I'll blow?”

 

“Your hand, just... lie against me, I want to look at you, I want you to see me, see me love you...”

 

“Ben...” Ray wrapped his leg, gently, over his thighs. Even so, his back hurt, but it was far away as Ray slid his long fingers around him. Fraser shuddered at his touch. 

“Che gelida manina...” 

 

Ray smiled, his strokes achingly slow. “I'm gonna make you feel so good...” Up, down, gentle, smooth... And he couldn't move into it. Totally helpless in Ray's hands. His hand cupped round his head, stroking his hair, his ear, tongue on his face, licking, his hand on his cock, stroking... And whispering... and words... words... nothing to say, nothing to say but...

 

“Love, Ray, oh, I love you.”

 

Then, even those words had fled, and there were only Ray's hands, only his leg wrapped over him, only the smell, his breath, only the touch and...

 

Afterward, a long time afterward, Ray made a motion, as though to move. Fraser grabbed at him, sleepily. “Don't go.”

 

“Wet patch, Frase.”

 

“I like you wet.”

 

Kisses. Kisses on his face, as he drifted to sleep. “Love you,” Ray murmured. “Love you too.”


	15. Two Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frannie shares her news with the rest of the family, the boys enjoy their date night, Fraser forgets he's naked, RayV makes pancakes for Cathy, and we find out about little Benny's teddy bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content.

Actually, Frannie thought, it hadn't been quite as bad as she'd thought when she told the rest of the family. Ray had stood beside her, one arm protectively across her shoulder, glaring green at the entire congregation. Maria started, briefly, to berate her, then turned and started arguing with Tony when he tried to join in. “Hey, Tony, butt out, she's my sister.” Their attention upon each other now, there was only Ma and the various cousins to be concerned about and they... well, they didn't seem that bothered. The younger members of the clan she could understand, but Ma? Well, she had been expecting a lot of responses, but not this one.

 

“It's about time you told me, bambino, I thought I was going to have to start dropping hints...”

 

Holy God, did Ma have that crazy sniffer dog thing of Fraser's too?

 

“I can't say I'm not worried about it, and I wish you could have waited till you were married, but... a baby's a good thing.”

 

Ray strengthened his hug to support her as she sagged with relief.

 

“So, who's the father? When do we get to meet him?”

 

“Uhm...”

 

It was at that point that the clan got opinionated, and the conversation shifted into loud Italian. But the worst of it was past. Thank God, she thought, for Ray.  
…

 

“This was meant to be date night,” Ray grumbled, as they trailed around the mall together.

 

“I'm sorry, we won't be much longer, but the stores close soon, and we do need to get ready for Christmas...”

 

“Christmas is meant to be fun, not a military exercise.”

 

Fraser's expression was something like shame. “I'm sorry, I don't know how else to do it.”

 

That was so sad. “Awh, Fraser, I'm sorry.” He slid his hand into Fraser's, and gave it a squeeze. “It'll be okay.”

 

“I know... it's just... it will be our first Christmas with Cathy, and I want it to be...” His voice trailed off, and he stared at his feet.

 

“You want it to be perfect. Hey, Frase, whatever we do, she'll love it. I get the feeling it's her first proper Christmas too.”

 

“Oh, it's not my first proper Christmas,” Fraser hurried to correct him. “I do remember Christmas's from my childhood... though I'd hope we can do a better job than my Grandparents. Not, of course, that I am criticising them.”

 

“I know.” Ray was trying for reassuring, but he was damned annoyed with Fraser's Grandparents. He wasn't sure what Fraser's Christmas's had been like, but he couldn't imagine they had been much fun. “So... what did you guys do for Christmas? You have a tree?”

 

“Yes, we usually had a small tree. We'd dress it on Christmas day, take it all down on St Steven's Day...”

 

“Say what?”

 

“The day after Christmas. The English call it Boxing Day...”

 

“Yeah? Well we called it Christmas mark two, and stuffed our faces with turkey sandwiches.”

 

Fraser laughed. “My Grandmother was an enthusiastic, if not entirely competent cook. I can't remember particularly what we ate.”

 

“What kind of presents did you get? Please tell me you got presents.”

 

“Oh yes, there was always a book...”

 

“Fuck's sake, Frase, what did they think you were? Sixty? Did you not get toys?”

 

“Oh, that's not fair. I did have a toy as a child.” He smiled. “In fact, Cathy's Teddy reminds me of him.”

 

“You had a teddy bear? That's sweet, Frase. Who got him for you?”

 

“Actually, I don't remember... I seem to remember sucking his ear a lot, so I must have been quite young.”

 

“What was he called?”

 

“Teddy.”

 

Ray laughed. “You couldn't think of something more original than that?”

 

Fraser looked at him, somewhat offended. “He had two names. One of them was a secret.”

 

“Hey, Fraser has a secret.” Ray nudged him, glanced across sideways as they walked. “Do tell.”

 

Fraser said nothing, and withdrew his hand from Ray's clasp.

 

“What? What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Shit. He'd said something. Fraser was doing that blinking thing, and his face had gone tight.

 

“It's not nothing. What? You know you can tell me anything...”

 

“No. I'm sorry," Fraser was terse. "Not everything. I hadn't thought of Teddy's name for decades. And... it's silly.”

 

It wasn't silly, Ray thought, not from the look on Fraser's face. Whatever it was, it was upsetting him. “Hey, Frase, come here...” They were in public, but he didn't care. He took Fraser's hand again, pulled him nearer. “Kiss?”

 

Fraser smiled, and gently touched his lips.

 

“You okay?”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

Yeah, well, Ray thought as they started walking again, we'll see about that. He trusted Fraser, knew that he shared as much as he could. But even still, there were things frozen inside. Must be growing up in the Arctic did it. One day, maybe, all of that would melt. For now, it was enough to walk beside him, holding his hand.  
…

 

They did in fact make their date night, and despite the fact that his back was still somewhat achy things came to a satisfactory conclusion on both sides. He smiled, watching Ray sleep on his arm. Funny to think that having hurt his back turned out to be a good thing. He was sure that he would, eventually, have been able to work through his anxieties, but the medication had certainly reduced his inhibitions. He remembered now why he had so abruptly ditched the painkillers the first time he was in the hospital. Perhaps it was his metabolism, he had no idea, but he always did have an overly strong reaction to pharmaceutical intervention of any kind. Even caffeine was something he tended to avoid.

 

Ray was twitching in his sleep, and muttering against his chest. Fraser smiled fondly, wondered what he was dreaming. His arm was getting numb, however, so very slowly, and gently, he moved. Ray groaned, and rolled onto his back, kicking off the sheets. Fraser got out of bed, took the opportunity for a good look, then covered him again, to keep him warm.

 

Why couldn't he sleep?

 

He yawned, wrapped himself up, so that he was naked but for the afghan blanket, a hideously crotcheted gift from Sophia Vecchio. (Ma. He simply couldn't think of her as Ma, no matter how many times others said it. She was many lovely things, but she was not his mother.) The afghan itched, but it kept him warm on the way to the bathroom. A shower might help.

 

It didn't. If anything, it woke him up even further. He wondered if Cathy had been having a good time. He'd never had a sleepover himself, but he suspected that the children would have been awake, talking and giggling until the wee small hours. Cathy would be okay, he told himself firmly. She did tire more easily than most children her age, still needing a nap during the day time, but Sophia and her uncle Ray would look after her. They were used to children, after all. And Diefenbaker no doubt would stick close to her, providing comfort, if she needed it.

 

He wandered naked from the bathroom, and stood in the centre of the living room, staring at the silent apartment. Unconsciously he had settled into parade rest, arms folded behind his back. Something was bothering him, but he had no idea what. Not only that, he had no idea if he even wanted to know what it was. Standing guard duty, while dull as watching paint dry, could sometimes be a good exercise in meditation, not one he had experienced since his promotion. He sighed, and settled his breath. He couldn't sleep, but he could breathe. Breathe, he reminded himself, breathe...

 

He settled into calm, and stood, staring at the curtained window.  
…

 

Ray woke up, cold. At first he couldn't figure out why he was cold, since he was wrapped up good and warm. Then he realised that the radiator heat of Fraser wasn't in the bed with him. He must have gone for a piss, he thought, and rolled onto Fraser's side of the mattress, cuddled up against his pillow, and breathed in the smell. Jeez, he was taking a long time, whatever he was doing. He hoped he'd come back to bed soon, but... he couldn't go see what the hell was going on because... sleepy. Hell yeah. Ben had just about worn him out.

 

“Night Frase,” he muttered to the empty pillow as he drowsed off. And then he was holding Fraser, only... well, he wasn't really there. It was a dream, he knew it. Good dream. Slumber warmth, and cuddles. Despite himself, Ray drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Ben.

 

In the morning when he woke, Fraser still wasn't there. Normally in the mornings he was dozy and cross, and it took forever for him to shift his sorry ass out of bed. Some mornings Fraser coaxed him into a better mood, or brought him breakfast in bed. This morning, however, he was dozy and cross, there were no sounds and smells of breakfast or coffee, no Fraser noises moving around the house, and it took all of five seconds for him to spring out of bed. Where the fuck had Fraser been all night?

 

“Frase,” he called, stepping through into the living room... and stopped. There he was, standing like a frigging statue. Bare naked. Or was that bear naked? Not that Fraser was hairy... Bare as a bald bear. Jeez... it was way too early to think. “What the fuck you doin'?”

 

“Ah,” Fraser blinked, and snapped out of whatever it had been. “Sorry, Ray. I was thinking.” He paused, looking puzzled. “Well, not exactly thinking. More...”

 

“Blanking. Just stood there staring at the wall, am I right?” Jeez. He hated when Fraser did that. Though normally it was only for a few minutes. From the look of the goosebumps Frase had been standing there some time. He must have had a shower at some point. His hair had dried curly.

 

“Well, the curtains, actually, but yes.” Fraser looked down at himself, startled. “Good Lord,” he said, “I'm naked.”

 

“Yeah. Never thought I'd say this Frase, but put some damned clothes on.”

 

It was Saturday morning, he was cranky, and he was going back to bed. “I want breakfast,” he grumbled. “Make up for waking up lonely.” Fraser looked at him, all blue eyed, naked innocence. “Damned Mountie,” Ray added, trying to keep up the crankiness.

 

“I'll have to think of some way to compensate you for your disappointment,” Fraser replied.

 

Ray cracked a smile. Maybe he could wait for his breakfast...  
…

 

Frannie was sitting with Cathy on her lap, and Bella and Fifi on either side. Ray was still chuckling at Cathy's formal morning greetings. Actually, more like salutations than greetings. Seemed like Victoria had something in common with Benny, beyond hot bunny sex. If nothing else, she'd obviously spent a lot of time talking to and reading with her daughter. From the sound of it though, she'd been borrowing books from Fraser's granny's library. “Children of the New Forest?” He'd never even heard of it, before Cathy started telling him the story. What kind of modern mother read her kid Victorian stories?

 

In another world, where Victoria wasn't a crazy homicidal maniac, it might have worked out with Benny. Weird thought. It gave him the creeps. He still wanted to kill the bitch.

 

But yeah, it was odd, and touching to hear Cathy addressing his nieces by their full given names, Annabel and Sophia. Reminded him of her father, Francesca-ing his sister all the time. Jeez, that little girl was so like Benny. He flipped the pancakes, stacking them into a tower, and drizzling them with maple syrup.

 

“Here you go girls, a Vecchio tower of Pisa.”

 

“They're not pizza, Uncle Ray,” Cathy solemnly informed him. “They're pancakes.”

 

“Yeah, I meant the leaning tower in Italy.”

 

“Oh, I've never heard of that,” she said, looking up with interest. “Can you tell me about it?”

 

Jeez, what this kid didn't know she wanted to find out like, yesterday. “You sit and eat, and I'll get you a book with pictures for after breakfast, okay?” Cathy would sit there excitedly absorbed in the book, asking question after question, while her Vecchio cousins would play with dolls. He was fine with that, so long as he could be the one turning the pages.

 

“Okay,” she said cheerfully, and dug in. “You make a good breakfast,” she said solemnly, then looked at Frannie, confiding, “I like that in a man.” Ray nearly choked on his own pancake.

 

“You've been teaching our Cathy bad habits, Fran,” he said, trying not to laugh.

 

“I'm only teaching her to have high standards,” his sister replied, trying not to laugh herself.

 

Yeah... okay, whatever. Ray carried on eating, his smile fading. Frannie hadn't told him who the father of her child was, probably knowing that he'd go kill the piecea shit bastard for knocking his sister up, then abandoning her. “He's not so bad,” Frannie had insisted, but Ray wasn't stupid. He knew poor Frannie. She'd been looking for someone to protect her for years now. He knew who's fault that was. Damned Pop. His throat closed as he remembered something worse than being hit himself. Watching Pop hit Frannie, or Paulie, or...

 

Damn it. Just thinking about it was as bad as being haunted. The sunlight was going out of the day. Why'd he have to think of that now?

 

“Don't you like your pancakes, Uncle Ray?” Bella was looking at him curiously.

 

“It's all right, honey,” he said. “My eyes are bigger than my belly. Not as hungry as I thought.” The girls didn't have to know what their grandfather was like.

 

“I'll finish them for you,” Fifi offered.

 

“I like this funny honey,” Bella added.

 

“It's maple syrup,” Cathy said proudly. “It's from Canada, like my Daddy.”

 

Bella nodded. “Canada's good then.”

 

Ray smiled at the girls, and divided his pancakes evenly between them. “Yeah, I got the maple syrup specially for Cathy," he said. "And when we're all done, let's go bowling."

 

“Cathy can't bowl,” Fifi said, through a mouthful of pancake.

 

“Yeah, she can. They have these ramp things to help.”

 

“Really?” Cathy looked at him, delighted. “Can I really go bowling? I've never done that.”

 

“Yeah, you can really go bowling. What do you say, Frannie? You want to come bowling with me and the girls?”

 

“Fine by me,” Frannie said.

 

Yeah, Frannie was enjoying this. Getting ready for motherhood. And... yeah, despite all the crap Frannie was going through, he was looking forward to being an uncle again. He loved Maria's kids, but when he discovered Benny had a kid he was knocked sideways by the different kind of love he felt for her. And Frannie was his kid sister. It would be different again.

 

He stood up and tousled her hair to a cry of, “hey, stop that!” He dropped a kiss on her head, then, to be fair, kissed all the little nieces.

 

He was going to be the world's best uncle, he told himself, and the best big brother. He might never be a father, but he could at least do that.  
…

 

It was nice to be able to carry Cathy again, Fraser thought, swaying a little bit as he sang to her. She had come back from the Vecchios' hyper with excitement, and took a while to calm down, even after her bath. Right now, she was sucking Teddy's ear, and humming along, drumming her fingers on his chest, as though she wanted to play the piano. Every time he finished a song she made another request. She wanted the songs he had sung to Ray on their quest, the songs he sang to the children in the hospital (and she joined in with the German bits of “Wooden Heart” mangling the language in the most delightful manner), the Inuit songs he'd learned from Quinn as a boy (and she mangled them even more) as well as the French songs she learned from her mother. Sometimes he went silent, to let her sing a verse unaccompanied, in her beautiful French, and blinked at the poignant image of Victoria, poor messed up broken Victoria, singing to their child.

 

Finally, she was all sung out, and drowsy on his chest. He turned, and saw Ray, on the couch, watching them. If only he could capture that look, that warm shine on his face... “I wish I had a picture of you like this,” he said.

 

“Yeah? I wish I had a picture of you two,” Ray answered, softly. “You know you're beautiful?”

 

Fraser laughed. His back was much better, but he wasn't quite up to bending over with Cathy yet, so couldn't kiss his man. He could, however, smile at him, and did. “I'll put her to bed now,” he said. “My turn tonight.”

 

“Yeah? What story does she want?”

 

“When Uncle Ray beat up the mob boss,” she demanded, sleepily.

 

“Who told her that one?” Ray raised his eyebrows. “It's a bit violent... I'd have thought Ray knew better.”

 

Fraser felt something warm in his heart. He wasn't going to draw Ray's attention to it, but he had just called Cathy's uncle by his name, for the first time. “Actually, I told her that one,” he confessed. “Don't worry, it's not too gory the way I tell it.”

 

“Uncle Ray's a hero, like Daddy and you,” Cathy told Ray, sleepily.

 

“Yeah, hedgehog, I know. Go on, bedtime. I'll see you in the morning.”

 

“And Teddy too.”

 

“Goodnight Teddy.”

 

As he suspected, Cathy was asleep long before the point where Zuko got his final comeuppance in the basketball court. He wondered again at what had possessed him to share this particular story, then remembered. He had been feeling guilty that all her hero stories were about him and Ray, rather than... him and Ray. Ray Vecchio had been his first true friend, the nearest thing he'd ever had to a brother, and he wanted his daughter to know it. One day, he supposed, he would have to tell her all about the horrible mess with her mother, and when that day came he wanted her to be prepared, to somehow understand how her father came to be shot in the back by his best friend. And so, he was introducing Uncle Ray stories to their repertoire. The next one, he thought, would be about the time Ray carried him on his back through the North woods, when he was blind and lame. And, now that he thought of it, completely and utterly away with the fairies. He'd leave out the ghost.

 

Gently he tucked her in, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and secured the side rail. Teddy lay slack in her hands, near the edge of the bed. He pushed the stuffed bear under the blanket so that he wouldn't fall out, kissed her, again, left her little pink light on low, and stepped out quietly. Ray was sitting on the couch, flicking idly through the channels.

 

“Park your ass, Fraser,” Ray stated, “I'm looking for some crap on television.”

 

“I was thinking we could entertain ourselves with shadow theatre.”

 

Ray snorted. “You'll never let me live that down, will you?” He settled on a channel, some American ball game, and muted it.

 

“It was funny.” Fraser turned on his cushion, lifted his legs over Ray's lap, and lay back with his head resting against the arm of the couch. “Not so much at the time, of course.” Ray took Fraser's foot in his hand, and started massaging it. Fraser closed his eyes. “That's nice.”

 

“Cool. So, you feeling okay now, Frase?”

 

“Yeah...” He was feeling lazy, and relaxed. “Fine...”

 

“So, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Anything? That's a big promise.”

 

“You give a good foot massage...”

 

“Okay.” Ray was trying to sound light, but Fraser caught a tightness in his voice. He stiffened slightly, wondering exactly what it was he'd promised.

 

“So, tell me about your teddy bear.”

 

Oh, good Lord.

 

“Ah.” His mouth went dry.

 

“Guess my foot massages aren't all they're cracked up to be,” Ray said, still kneading his fingers into the tense muscles. “Don't matter. You don't gotta tell me anything you don't want to...”

 

“It's all right, Ray. I'm sorry... just it sounds a bit silly for a grown man to be talking about his childhood teddy bear.”

 

“I had a toy turtle. Really realistic. Its' legs moved, and it had wheels under it, er, in the belly, so when you pushed it, it moved. Damn thing moved like lightning. Boy was I surprised when I met a real turtle.”

 

“What did you call it?”

 

“Not Rock.”

 

Fraser laughed. “That's a very good name for a turtle.”

 

“Thanks, yeah, I liked it too.” Ray was sounding comfortable, and Fraser found himself relaxing again.

 

“Turn about is fair play,” he admitted, and sighed. “Okay. I had a teddy when I was little. He's the only toy I remember, though I'm sure I must have had toys when my mother was alive. Anyway... the teddy was...” He cleared his throat. “Furry. And he had furry flaps for ears.”

 

“Yeah? Teddies are meant to be furry.”

 

“I know, I know.” Fraser kept his eyes shut, so as not to see Ray's intensity gazing at him while he spoke. “Have you ever seen the Arctic field uniform that Mounties wear?”

 

“Yeah, course I have, remember? That beaver skin hat stuff, and...” Ray's voice trailed off. Oh Lord, Fraser thought, he's beginning to understand...

 

“Anyway,” he continued, doggedly. “My first memory of my father, he was dressed in his Arctic furs. He had the flaps of his hat down over his ears. And...” He laughed, and covered his eyes with his hand. Ridiculous for a grown man to be talking like this... “I used to pretend my Teddy was, uhm... my father.”

 

“So...” Ray's voice was sounding thick, “so, your teddy bear's secret name was... what? Dad?”

 

Oh hell. He'd have to admit it now. “Daddy,” he managed to say, still trying to make a joke of it. What he had intended to come out as a laugh came out as a choke instead. Dammit. He was not going to cry.

 

“Awh, Ben...” Ray's hands came off his feet, and the cushions moved as the weight was dispersed. There was a warm weight over him, and Ray took his hand from his face, kissed his eyelids.

 

He was not crying. He was an adult. A man and a Mountie. He was not crying for his teddy bear, he was not crying for his father. He was not crying for his childhood.

 

He put his arms around Ray, not crying, and hung on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed Fraser singing "Wooden Heart" from Vicki's lovely kid!fic "That was the Moment," http://archiveofourown.org/works/415451 and the name for Ray's childhood turtle from look_turtles' quirky and delightful "The Really Bad, Not So Greatness Day. Dief's POV." http://archiveofourown.org/works/310813  
> Enjoy.


	16. Seeing Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy fibs to Santa, Frannie gets cramps, RayV gets chatted up, Fraser prepares a schedule, and the Rays decide what to get him for Christmas.

The twins had run ahead to 'jump Bogart' all over Santa, and then been hauled off to the back of the line by their irate mother. They grumbled all the way. Daddy and Ray were far more sensible, waiting in line, pushing her chair every five minutes or so, and Fifi and Bella were being good too, hanging on to Fat Tony's hand.

 

It surprised her that the other children all believed in Santa though. She was trying to figure out why the adults would lie about it. Even her Daddy let them think the man was real, though he didn't tell any fibs. She looked up ahead at the man in the red suit, with the white flowing beard. He looked really nice and friendly, but he didn't look exactly real. His face was a bit too young, and she was fairly sure the beard was a fake.

 

Still, it might be fun to pretend for a moment that she was like the other children. She'd not say anything to the store Santa, because he was only trying to make children happy after all, and he did look twinkly. He'd be upset if she pulled his beard off.

 

Oh dear, she thought in Daddy's voice. What a naughty thing she'd just thought! No, she'd be good, and pretend she believed in Santa. It would keep everybody happy. 

 

Finally, it was her turn. Daddy undid her straps, and Ray lifted her across to the Santa's lap.

 

“What's your name, sweetie,” the man said.

 

“Cathy,” she replied.

 

“And have you been naughty or nice this year?”

 

She thought about it. She'd thought lots of bad things, and didn't always share her toys, and sometimes she shouted at Daddy and Ray, and then she'd cry about it.

 

“Oh dear,” she said, “I've been naughty.”

 

“No she hasn't!” Ray practically burst out his denial. “What the he..ck you talkin' about Cathy? You've been really really nice.”

 

“I would have to agree with Ray,” said Daddy. “Cathy's a very good girl.”

 

“Really?” She stared up at the two men, with relief. “You really think so?”

 

“Of course we do,” said Ray, calm again, and smiling.

“Well then,” said the Santa, smiling behind his fluffy beard, “you've been such a good girl, could you tell us what you'd like for Christmas?”

 

Cathy thought. There were all sorts of things she'd like for Christmas. She'd like a baby brother or sister, but Frannie was pregnant, so she'd be almost like a big sister, so that was okay. She'd like her Mommy to be happy, and to see her again, but that would be scary, because Mommy might want to take her back, and she wanted to stay with Daddy or Ray. She wanted to be able to walk, but Santa couldn't do that, even if he was real. She looked up at Santa, and petted his beard. She was right, it wasn't a real beard, but it was very snuggly.

 

“I'd like a baby doll,” she said, “a really real looking one, so I can play that I'm a Mommy.”

 

Santa smiled at Ray and Daddy, and then smiled back down at her.

 

“Anything else?”

 

“No, I got everything else I needed this year,” she said. “I got to live with my Daddy and Ray.”

 

“That's lovely, Cathy,” said the Santa. “And, you're sure there's nothing else you want for Christmas?”

 

“Nothing that's entirely practical, I'm afraid to say.”

 

Santa blinked. “You're a very clever girl,” he said. 

 

“My Daddy's clever. He knows everything. And Ray's clever. He knows everything else.”

 

Daddy and Ray were looking at each other now, and she could tell they were trying not to laugh. She turned her attention back to the Santa. He really was a nice man, she thought, trying to make children smile at Christmas time. She took hold of his red suit, and stroked one of the buttons on his chest. It wasn't real, but it was... what would Auntie Frannie call it? Cute. 

 

“I like your red suit,” she said. “My Daddy's a Mountie, he wears red suits too.”

 

“Well, red's a good colour,” Santa explained. “It means if you get lost in the snow you don't get lost.”

 

“My Mommy got lost in the snow one time, and my Daddy saved her.”

“I bet your Mommy was very pleased about that.”

 

Cathy paused. “You'd think so, wouldn't you?” The Santa cleared his throat, and looked confused. “Thank you very much, Mr Clause,” she said formally. “I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and that the reindeers... is it reindeer or reindeers? Anyway, I hope they don't get too tired.”

 

“I'll make sure they have plenty of treats when we get home.”

 

Cathy put her hand out, and the Santa took it. She gave three little shakes, then turned and reached her arms up. Daddy took her, and she left, waving at the Santa, while Ray pushed her chair, and collected a little parcel, and what looked like a Christmas card.

 

“What's that, Ray?”

 

“It's a photo of you on Santa's knee,” said Ray, fondly. “See, you open up the card, and there's my little hedgehog.”

 

“Ooh,” she said, staring, “doesn't he look realistic.”

 

“Shush,” Daddy whispered, rubbing her back. “The other kids don't know.”

The other kids, she decided were really very silly, but it wasn't their fault. And besides, Santa was very sweet.

 

“Hey, Fraser, Cathy,” said Ray, “I just have to nip off somewhere. You guys, I'll meet you at the burger stand in an hour, okay?”

 

“Okay, Ray,” Daddy said, taking the chair. 

 

Cathy turned Teddy round so he could see Ray, and waved his paw. “Bye bye,” she said for him, and blew Ray a kiss as he made his way through the crowded mall.  
…

 

Frannie was worried. She knew it was probably nothing... in fact, Ma kept telling her it was nothing, but she was having what felt like period pains, only stronger. She would be walking along perfectly content, then, suddenly, cramp. Like now. She was standing at the sink, washing the dishes, singing along with Madonna on the radio... then, cramp.

 

“Hey, sis, what's wrong?” Ray poked his head through the kitchen door, staring at her, concerned.

 

“I'm fine,” she fibbed.

 

“Just, you stopped singing.”

 

“I'm fine, really.” Ray stepped through, joined her at the sink, and started drying. He was looking rather pale himself, she thought. “How about you? Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” 

 

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You can bullshit Ma, you can bullshit anyone, but you can't bullshit me.”

 

“Yeah?” He glared at her. “Goes both ways. You can't bullshit me. So, what's wrong?”

 

“Oh, it's girl stuff. You wouldn't be interested.”

 

“Is it the baby? Cause if it is the baby, you're not doing yourself any favours keeping it to yourself.” He nudged her. “I know you try to be tough, but you gotta share sometime.”

 

“Okay. But it's nothing. Ma says it's nothing.”

 

After an awkward pause Ray stopped drying, turned sideways, leaning on the counter, arms folded, with an 'I take no shit' look on his face.

 

“Okay, okay. I've got pains in my innards, that's all.”

 

“What kind of pains?”

 

“Sorta... stabby pains.”

 

At that Ray put his hand on her shoulder. “Stop with the dishes already. I'm getting you to the doctor, okay?”

 

“Oh, come on, it's not as bad as that...”

 

“Just for a check-up.”

 

“Ma says...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Ma says, and she's the expert on babies. I get that. But you're my kid sister, and I'm your big brother, and you're going to the hospital if I gotta put you in a headlock and drag you there.”

 

“Oh, all right,” she snapped. “I'll go to the damned hospital, when I've finished the dishes.”

 

“Someone else can finish the damned dishes,” Ray snapped back. “Start walking.”

 

Part of her was angry, part of her was frightened, and part of her was relieved that Ray had taken the decision out of her hands.

 

She started walking.  
…

 

While Frannie was being examined Ray waited outside, looking his fingers, his shoes, the knees of his trousers. They didn't exactly distract him from his concerns. Okay, so Ma was probably right. She'd had four kids of her own who survived. The two girls, himself, and baby Paulie. He winced. He had to stop thinking of his brother as a baby. That had always been one of their problems. Fuck's sake, the man was in his thirties. Jeez, he was getting old. They all were. He sighed. Paulie. One of the reasons he had fled to Florida was that he had family there. He'd hoped that Paulie might forgive him, that they might be able to be brothers again. But, for whatever reason, Paulie was still angry with him. 

 

At least they were talking now. Yeah, but still... Paulie could damned well hold a grudge. He closed his eyes, and leant back on his chair, letting his head rest on the wall. He had another brother, he reminded himself. Benny. He smiled, then laughed. Crap, that made Kowalski his brother-in-law. Well, he could live with that. He and Kowalski were doing well with the business, making a go of it. It surprised him how quickly it took off. Seemed there was no shortage of unfaithful husbands and wives. And the fact that he and Kowalski were ex cops with clean records seemed to generate trust in their clients. He was doing most of the clerical side of things, Kowalski was doing most of the field work. He did tend to join Kowalski on stakeouts though, and they'd snip, and tease each other, and snicker, to keep each other awake. He'd never have thought it, when they first met, that he'd end up classing the guy as a good friend. But Benny had been right, after all, when he said, “I knew you two would hit it off.”

 

His thoughts drifted for a moment. He'd been up late last night, drinking too much coffee with Kowalski, taking photos of the latest adulterer and her handsome swain. He should know better, by now, than to drink all that coffee. Made him ratty in the mornings. He wondered how Frannie was doing, then blinked fully awake as the door of the examination room opened. He knew immediately that everything was all right. Frannie was smiling.

 

“It's nothing,” she said. “Well, it's just that the baby's really big, and cause he's my first my, uhm, uterus is a bit tight. Something like that. So, when he moves around I get a cramp.”

 

“He?”

 

“Oh, shit, I didn't mean to say that! I know Ma wants it to be a surprise.”

 

“Nah, she just wants to be proved right. You know she's already knitting him blue jumpers?”

 

“Yeah,” Frannie laughed. “I've never known her be wrong about the sex of a baby, have you?”

 

“Never,” he replied, “I think she's got an ultra scan in her head or something.” He put his arm around Frannie, feeling the relief coming off her in waves, and smiled.

 

“Oh, hello, Detective Vecchio?”

 

He turned, and felt his eyes widen. He knew that woman. The doctor who had looked at Benny's back. Elegant brunette, hair bobbed to accentuate her high cheekbones, with lovely eyes the colour of dark honey. She was about his age, nearly his height. Of course he remembered her. So what if he was gun shy around women recently? A man could still look. And she was, as Kowalski might have put it, greatness. 

 

“Hello Doctor...” shit, he couldn't remember her name. “It's just Mr Vecchio now,” he commented, “I'm retired from the police force.”

 

“Ah,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “I remember you were in here a while ago, with a very serious injury. Gunshot to the chest? Am I right?”

 

“Yeah...” wow, she remembered him. She remembered him, and she was really pretty, and if he didn't know better he'd think that her smile was... well... personal. 

 

“So,” she asked, turning at Frannie, her smile fading slightly. “I take it you're Mrs Vecchio?”

 

“God no,” Frannie laughed. “That's our mother.” She nudged Ray, playfully. “This big galoot is my brother.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray was feeling flustered, but had the sense not to show it. “And this is my kid sister, Frannie.”

 

“Oh, lovely to meet you, Frannie.” The doctor's face became brighter. “Well, will I be seeing you both around the hospital?”

 

“Yeah,” Frannie was giving him a knowing look. “He comes up with me for my check-ups, and he has follow up appointments for his chest.”

 

“Hey, Frannie,” dammit, he'd just blushed. His ears were hot... “the doctor does spinal stuff, she's not pulmonary...”

 

“That's true,” the doctor replied. “But I'll probably see you around.”

 

“Yeah, probably. Nice meeting you again, doctor.”

 

“Anna,” she said, and holy shit, now she was the one blushing. “Annika, actually, but you can call me Anna.”

 

“Ray,” he replied, mouth dry. “I'm Ray.”

 

“Well, I've got to go, but I hope to see you again, Ray.” She looked to Frannie, “and good luck with the baby. I'm sure he or she will be beautiful.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Frannie said. The doctor nodded, pulled her file to her chest like a shield, and made what looked like a getaway through the corridors. Frannie turned on her heel, looked at her brother, smugly. “She was coming on to you.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I think.”

 

Shit, he thought, but didn't say. What if Frannie's right?  
...

 

There were only a few days left to Christmas, and Fraser was... not panicking exactly, because that would be most inappropriate, but certainly experiencing some anxiety. The tree was quite... spectacular really, and the scent of pine filled the apartment. Every morning more presents were wrapped, and deposited at the base of said tree, and every day Cathy got more and more excited. And he... well, he got more and more tense.

 

Oh, admit it Benton. He clucked his tongue against his palate. You are, in point of fact, panicking. Don't panic. It's just a day, after all.

 

Just a day. What a lot of fuss, he thought, for the hundredth time, for just one day. But oh, good Lord, he thought, I hope it's a good one. I hope she has good memories of her first Christmas...

 

“It's gonna be fine, Fraser.” Ray had come up behind him, replying to his unspoken thoughts. “It's Christmas. It's gonna be fine.”

 

Fraser turned, touched Ray's face. “I'll have to trust you on that.”

 

“Yeah, I'm Mr Instinct, you're Mr Logic, and between the two of us, Christmas is gonna be perfect.”

 

Fraser nodded. Ray had told him that Christmas wasn't a military exercise, but he had already planned it out to the millisecond. He would be attending midnight mass with the Vecchios (he suspected his Grandmother might decide to haunt him if he didn't) and then, on his return, he would put out the last of the presents, lay the table for Christmas breakfast, put together the ingredients for the food they would be bringing to the Vecchios. Then, he would put the coffee on for Ray, and when Cathy woke up she would have her bath early, he would dress her in her new princess outfit, and then they would open a few presents, and then he would start doling out pancakes, and then...

 

“Fraser, wake up. You're time travelling again.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You're thinking about the big day, aren't you? Come on, we'll get there soon enough.” Ray shrugged, and Fraser envied him his nonchalance. “Help me with this damned thing,” he added. “It'll need two of us to wrap it.”

 

Fraser smiled. It might seem an odd present to others, but it seemed appropriate for Cathy to open this particular gift on Christmas day. Her legs had been getting stronger and stronger with the regular sessions in the pool (between three and five days a week) and on her last hospital appointment the doctor had taken him aside, and assured him that there was sufficient improvement that Cathy would be able to use a walker. “I don't want to get her hopes up too much though," he added, "there's still no certainty that she'll ever walk independently, but her mobility is certainly improving.”

 

Fraser had visions of Cathy pushing her walker around on Christmas morning... promptly followed by visions of Cathy falling down and crying her eyes out on Christmas morning. Oh dear...

 

“Hey, do I gotta kick you in the head? It's gonna be fine.”

 

“Understood, Ray.”

 

“Hold that...”

 

Fraser put his thumb on a corner, and watched Ray's concentration as he taped it shut. Ray looked good, focussed and bright like that. And, yes, he thought, it should be okay. Really, the whole world did Christmas, so how hard could it be? And they were having dinner at the Vecchios, so Cathy would get to play with all her cousins. He hoped the boys would behave, but even if they didn't, all the little Vecchio girls had set themselves up as Cathy's protectors.

 

It would be all right, he reassured himself, moving his thumb obediently to the next fold of paper. It would be all right...

 

Any other thoughts he had, he pushed down.  
…

 

“Hey, Vecchio,” Ray asked, attempting to sound casual as he lay back into the recline of his car seat. “You decided what to get Fraser yet?”

 

“Yeah, actually... I got him a book about...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure he'll love it.” Ray was grumpy. 

 

“What?” Jeez, now Vecchio was grumpy too. 

 

“Sorry,” he made an expansive gesture of apology with his hands. “S'not your fault. I've just been, you know, tryin' to think of somethin', and I can't figure it out. I mean, I've got him stuff already, but I wanna get him somethin' special.”

 

“Well, there's books or music...”

 

“I know, I know... and that's all brilliant. It's just...”

 

“What?”

 

Ray sighed. He wasn't about to tell Vecchio the whole sad story, but he had to tell someone something, or his heart would burst with it. “You know, he only had one toy growing up?”

 

There was one of those brittle silences that you were frightened to break. Vecchio looked at him silently for almost too long. Then, “Jeez, Ray, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but... wow.”

 

Ray sighed. “Explains a lot, don't you think?”

 

“So, you wanna get him a toy?”

 

“Yeah, but I can't figure out what. You got any ideas?”

 

“You know...” Vecchio was thoughtful. “I remember this one time, he was goin' up against the Council, talkin' their ears off...”

 

“That time he was filly, fully, er, blustering, bustling...” Ray nearly groaned with frustration. “What the hell do you call it?”

 

“Filibuster, he was filibustering.”

 

“That's gotta be the stupidest damn word I ever heard.”

 

“Yeah, anyway, later on I read the transcripts. And he said...” Vecchio was looking off into the distance, “he said his toy box had, what was it... 'virtually no toys,' but loadsa books. His grandmother got him books instead.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. So? You got anythin' else for me?”

 

“Yeah. He wanted a toy bulldozer.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray relaxed. “So, I'll get him a toy bulldozer.”

 

Vecchio shifted in his seat, watching through the glass, camera at the ready. “She should be out soon, let's try and get a good shot this time.”

 

“'Kay.”

 

“Ray,” Vecchio said into the silence, after a moment or so, “can I ask you a question now?”

 

“Yeah, go on.”

 

“He wouldn't mind if I gave him a toy as well as a book, would he?”

 

Ray grinned, squeezed Vecchio's shoulder. “That'd be greatness. Whatcha got in mind?”

 

“Well, when we gave you that box for Cathy, and you gotta load of our old toys, I kinda held back.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Vecchio laughed, and sounded uncomfortable. “Sorta, well, I kept my best toy back.”

 

“What was it?”

 

“Toy riv. Got it when I was ten. Me and my brother painted it green.”

 

“Aw, jeez, Vecchio...” He didn't know what to say.

 

“You reckon he'd like it?”

 

“Yeah, Ray,” he said, suddenly aware that they were finally on first name terms, at least when having a personal conversation. “Yeah, I reckon he'd like that a lot.” 

 

Vecchio nodded, and lifted the camera, as their target came out of the hotel. A few quick snaps, and he put the camera back down. “Cool. Just try not to set it on fire, okay?”


	17. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser gets a long awaited present, Cathy gets her Christmas wish, Frannie and her brother argue about macaroni, RayK sings, and everyone throws snowballs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vicki wanted Cathy to believe in Father Christmas, if just for a moment, so here it is.

Christmas day did seem to be following Fraser's timetable with anything like the military precision to which he had aspired. Not that it was bothering him, he thought, sitting with his mouth open, while Cathy spooned ice cream into him. Ice cream for breakfast. That had certainly not been part of the original plan. Ray decided, out of the blue, that the pancakes could be embellished with ice cream, and from that point on breakfast became a stickier occasion, particularly when Dief joined in. Fraser was almost certain Cathy had got ice cream and maple syrup in his hair. She'd certainly got it all over Dief. She was giggly with excitement and the necessity for her postprandial bath was growing more acute by the moment. Diefenbaker's no doubt sincere attempts to assist in her ablutions by spreading lupine saliva all over her were not exactly helping matters.

 

And yet, Fraser could not stop laughing. Resulting in ice cream somehow finding its way up his nose, and all the way down his front.

 

Oh dear...

 

“Okay, you guys,” Ray said, starting to stack plates. “Pitter patter, let's get at 'er. Presents to open, hedgehogs, Mounties and wolves to unstickify, Vecchios to visit, come on, come on...”

 

“Presents,” Cathy squealed, and pressed her gooey face up against Fraser's chin. Quite how anybody could get so completely caked in ice cream and maple syrup was a mystery. 

 

He stood, kissed her, and carried her through to the living room. He and Ray had hidden the big present in their bedroom until she was asleep. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of it, and she wriggled. “What's the really big one, Daddy?”

 

“I can't tell you that, it would spoil the surprise.”

 

“What's the big one, Ray?”

 

“I can't tell you either. Come on, you'll find out soon enough.”

 

Fraser sat her down, and pulled one of the other presents toward her. “Open a few others first...”

 

“I want to open the big one.”

 

“That's for last,” he said, looking questioningly at Ray. Were they doing the right thing? Ray smiled at him confidently, and gave him the thumbs up.

 

“Okay,” said Ray, dropping into a relaxed puddle of limbs. “Here we go. Cathy first...”

 

They took it in turns, opening presents one at a time. First Cathy, (and she loved her baby doll) then Ray, then Fraser, and back again to Cathy. Her excitement was contagious. Fraser couldn't remember ever having felt so happy to be opening presents. Not even when his father gave him the family photograph. It was one thing to own a family photo, another thing entirely to be in the middle of a real family. Ray and Cathy were tearing wrapping paper, flinging it all over the place, and Dief was running around the living room, chasing the fluttering scraps, yipping and chasing his tail. To begin with, Fraser opened carefully along the seams,stacking the detritus neatly as he opened his presents. Toward the end of events he was tearing cheerfully away, his papers joining the general mess.

 

Finally, he was down to his last two presents.

 

“You'd better open these together,” Ray said. “They're kinda like a matchin' set, from me and Vecchio.”

 

“Really?” By this stage he was not above lifting the boxes and shaking them for a clue. There were slightly metallic rattles from both parcels, but nothing he could identify. Puzzled, he opened the one from Cathy's uncle first.

 

“Oh... my.” A small, extremely detailed matchbox toy fell into his hand. Green, from the looks of it hand painted, and... “It's a riviera.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray was jigging with happy energy, performing the now famous 'Kowalski bum shuffle' on the spot. “Him and his brother painted it, he got it when he was, uhm, ten. It was orange, and he wanted it green, so they borrowed some of Maria's nail polish stuff.” He laughed. “Without tellin' her.”

 

Fraser stared at the toy, part of his mind taken up with the bizarre notion of Ray's elder sister ever wearing green nail varnish, the rest of it overwhelmed with the significance of the gift.

 

“And he says, don't set this one on fire, or I'll have to kick your ass for him.”

 

Fraser smiled, putting the toy on the floor, and trundling it back and forth. Its doors even opened. “I think I can avoid setting it on fire.”

 

“Yeah, anyway... this one's from me. He said it was somethin' you might like.”

 

Fingers shaking he tore at the paper. Yellow. Whatever it was, it was yellow...

 

Bulldozer. It was a yellow bulldozer.

 

“You gotta play with 'em, Fraser. And you gotta be a good boy, and share your toys. I like playing with trucks, so...”

 

Fraser leant forward, grabbed Ray by the shoulders, and pulled him into a kiss. After a moment they pulled back, breathless. Ray's eyes were shiny with happiness. “You'd better not kiss Vecchio like that.”

 

“Of course he won't,” Cathy declared, solemnly. “Uncle Ray's Daddy's brother. You don't kiss your brother like that.”

 

“She's right,” Fraser said, smiling. “But I might give him a fraternal hug.”

 

“Yeah, that's all right then.” Ray turned his attention to Cathy. “So, hedgehog, your turn now. Time for the big one.”

 

Cathy rolled over, and started crawling to the present. Ray caught Fraser's eyes, unmistakeably proud, and gestured at their daughter with a nod. When she had first arrived in their lives, just over three months ago, she had been able to drag herself around on the floor, but her legs had trailed behind her, and she got exhausted very quickly. Now she was pushing up a little bit, moving her legs, and it took far longer for her to tire. Fraser felt his hands sweat, and wiped them on the legs of his jeans.

 

Cathy was sitting now, tearing at the paper. Each new bit of the gift that she revealed seemed to puzzle her more. “Is it a cage,” she asked, at one point.

 

“No, princess, not a cage.”

 

“What would we need a cage for?”

 

“I don't know,” Cathy was still puzzled, pulling another piece of paper off. “Is it a new wheelchair,” she asked, catching sight of the wheels.

 

“No, not a new wheelchair,” Fraser said.

 

Finally, with a loud rip, most of the paper fell off, revealing the contents. Cathy stared at it.

 

“It's a walker,” she said, finally, in a very quiet voice. Fraser felt his heart clench. Wrong gift, he thought, wrong message. Too clinical, too medical, reminds her that she's ill. “It's a walker,” she repeated, “does that mean... does that mean I'm getting better?” Fraser stared at her dumbly. He'd forgotten how to talk.

 

Ray jumped in. “Yeah, hedgehog, the doctor said you were strong enough for a walker, you could start practising in it...”

 

Cathy put her hands on the metal bars, and rolled it a little. “Do you think...” she asked in a little voice, “do you think there's a real Santa Claus after all?”

 

“Why do you ask?” Ray put his hand on her hair, and stroked it gently.

 

“Because... because I wanted to ask him if I could walk for Christmas, but I didn't think I could.”

 

“Yeah, well, let's find out. Come on, sweet knees. We'll see how this puppy runs.” Ray swung the walker free of the scattered paper, and landed it in the middle of the room. Then he stood, lifted Cathy, and brought her to the walker. Fraser turned round, still sitting, and watched them. Cathy grabbed onto the bars, and Ray positioned her onto the little hammock of a seat, and strapped the back support for her. He held onto the top bar for a moment, while Cathy fixed her grip. “Ready?” Cathy nodded.

 

Fraser stared, and the room swam. Then his face was wet.

 

It was Christmas day, and his daughter was walking.  
...

 

“So, you got any idea what the big surprise is?” Ray was rubbing his hands, and blowing on them, as he and Frannie sat for a moment in the parked car, bracing themselves against the snow. What a damned time for the heating to go. Whoever said a white Christmas was a good thing was looney toons, babedey bah, babedy bah, that's all folks.

 

Frannie smiled at him. She was doing that a lot, recently, looking quite comfortable in her skin. He'd never say it to her, but it was true that some women got a pregnancy glow. That said, if he never again had to hold her hair back while she puked into the toilet he'd be a happy man. She was about four months along now, and hopefully that stuff was over with.

 

“I don't know what the surprise is,” she said. “Probably Cathy's made, like, a Christmas dee oh rammy or something.”

 

Ray shook his head. “What did Kowalski do when I was undercover? Is it an airborne virus or something? I can't remember you being this bad with words before I went away.”

 

“Hey,” she slapped him playfully on the wrist. “Maybe you just never listened to me before.”

 

Actually, he thought, that might even be true. Not that he didn't love her, or talk with her before. But... maybe it took being away from your family for a year, thinking every day might be the one you were whacked, to make you realise just what you had, and how much you didn't want to lose it.

 

“Listen,” he said, as they stood outside the building, ringing the buzzer to be let in. “Whatever she's made, even if it's a crappy macaroni collage, you gotta look really impressed, okay?”

 

“Hey, I made you a macoroni collage one Christmas. You said you loved it.”

 

“Yeah, well, you had measles, and you were eight, and I'd eaten all your chocolate. Didn't want to make you feel any worse, did I?”

 

“So, what, you saying my macaroni nativity scene was crappy?”

 

“No... that's not what I said...”

 

“It's what you were thinking...”

 

“I haven't thought about that damned thing for years...”

 

“So now it's a damned thing, is it? I'll have you know I spent ages on that, sticking glitter and tinsel and buttons and stuff...”

 

“Hey, I said I liked it!”

 

“You just said it was crappy and damned...”

 

“I didn't mean...”

 

“Hush, they'll hear us argue...”

 

“Nothing new there,” Ray grumbled, and smoothed down his coat. 

 

Frannie pulled a face at him, but it was her play face, so he knew she wasn't really offended. He pulled a face right back at her, and knocked at the apartment door.

 

“Uncle Ray! Frannie! Baby in Frannie's tummy! Happy Christmas!” Cathy's voice was cheerful through the wood, and Ray smiled. He could just see her, bouncing up and down, in either Benny or Kowalski's arms. Nah, she was in her wheelchair. Her voice was too low down for her to be carried.

 

“Happy Christmas,” the Vecchios called through the door in tandem. “Can we come in,” Frannie added. “We've got a present.”

 

“Let me get the door,” Cathy said. Ray looked quizzically at his sister. 

 

“Let me get the door,” he whispered in Italian. “What does that mean?”

 

There was a fair amount of scratching and giggling on the other side of the door, then it moved back slowly. “Owch,” Cathy said, then, “let go Daddy! I can do it!”

 

“Oh... my... God.” Frannie's hand flew up to her heart. Ray just stood there, speechless. There was Cathy, standing up in some wheely contraption, with Benny and Kowalski on either side of her. The whole family were grinning like cartoon cats that got the canary. Cathy leaned back against some straps, let go of the handle, and clapped, before grabbing on again. 

 

“See? I told you it was a surprise. I'm learning to walk.”

 

Ray went down on his knees, and put his arms around her. She was sticky all over his good suit, but hey, it was his fault for wearing it. She was a mini Benny after all, it was her job to ruin his suits. “Happy Christmas, Cathy,” he said, hoping she didn't know he was crying soppy all over her shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”  
...

 

Everything was going quiet, and even her Vecchio cousins were falling asleep, being carted home, or tucked up in sleeping bags. She didn't want the day to end, but she couldn't really keep her eyes open any more. She'd eaten more than she thought possible, run around on her walker bumping into Vecchios and making them laugh. Well, apart from Fat Tony, who cursed, and got a clip around his ear from Maria for bad language. Then he apologised, and gave her chocolate, and she managed to fit it in, even though she was already full. And then the twins started throwing the ball around in the house, and Dief went crazy, so Nonna Vecchio shouted at everyone in Italian, to go out. And Daddy and Ray and Uncle Ray took all the kids and Dief into the back yard, and everyone threw snowballs at Daddy, and he threw them back. Then they tried to make an igloo, and he told them it wasn't cold enough, and the Vecchio children said it was as cold as the North Pole, and Daddy and her two Rays laughed, and said no it wasn't. And Uncle Ray said something about a witch's tit, and Daddy glared at him and threw a snowball straight at his mouth. Then the igloo fell down when the boys tried to make the roof, and the twins got wet, and started throwing snowballs again, and Daddy got a snowball in his face, and spluttered, and Uncle Ray told him that revenge was sweet. So revenge must be some kind of pudding, though that's not what it said in the dictionary. And then they went in again, and Nonna had cooked “torta della nonna,” and somehow everyone ate a slice. (Daddy ate two, and Ray ate two and a half.) And the twins started making fart noises, and even Daddy sniggered.

 

And now she was tired, and she didn't want the day to end, but her eyes wouldn't stay open.

 

“Think she's asleep, Frase?”

 

“Maybe,” Daddy was wrapping her up warm, and lifting her. “After all the excitement she should be.”

 

“So, was I right? Was Christmas greatness?”

 

“Yes, Ray, you were certainly proved correct.”

 

“Cool. Next time I tell you not to worry about nothin', you listen to me.”

 

“Double negative,” Cathy mumbled. There was a pause in the conversation, then the men were chuckling gently. 

 

“She's your kid, that's for sure.”

 

“Yours too.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks, Frase, you know, she's the best present I ever had.”

 

For a little moment she was a Cathy sandwich, then Ray was saying, “can I hold her for a bit, just till she's properly asleep?”

 

“Of course,” Daddy's voice was warm.

 

“Greatness,” said Ray, and started to walk and sing. He couldn't sing as well as Daddy, but his voice was nice and friendly. Finally, she drifted off to sleep.


	18. Just a Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy gets a cold, RayV gets a date, and Fraser and RayK take it in turns to fall to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Vicki for sharing her childhood experience of hospital.

She was trying to be very very good, but she was hot, and her chest was sore, and she couldn't get to sleep. She pushed the button so her bed rose up, and her chest felt a little bit better, but it was still funny, as though she'd breathed in when she was under water, and not coughed out all the wetness. She listened to herself breathe, and it was crackly. She pulled Teddy and Baby Doll to her, and hugged them. Baby Doll didn't have her name yet, because she was waiting for Frannie's baby. When Frannie's baby came she could think of a name that sounded like they were twins, and then Baby Doll could have the same birthday. Because it would be sad to have your birthday on Christmas day, because you'd only get one lot of presents. Unless you were Jesus. Nonna told her all about how he got gold, frankincense and myrrh. She told Daddy and Ray all about it. Daddy started talking about symbolism, and how myrrh helped baby's gums when they were teething, then he started talking about funerary rights (and she couldn't remember funerary from her dictionary, so Mommy should have got her a bigger one, like the one she'd wanted.) Ray looked at Daddy, rolled his eyes, and said the wise men weren't that wise, they should have brought tonka trucks.

 

Her chest was really very sore now. It was beginning to feel more like she'd got mud in there than water. Whatever it was, it was getting thicker, and it was getting burny to breathe. She could hear it now, and it was scary. She started crying, but didn't make any noise, because she was awake. Sometimes when she was asleep she cried out loud, and sometimes that woke her up. But she was a good girl, so she wasn't going to cry loud at all. Sometimes, before Daddy and Ray, when she woke herself up crying, Mommy would come into the room and smack her. Sometimes she'd come in and cuddle her. Sometimes she'd put her head around the door, and tell her to shut up. And sometimes she'd sit next to her and start crying herself.

 

No, Cathy was a good girl. She knew that Daddy and Ray never shouted... well, not at her. Ray sometimes shouted, but it was at the television when the referee was blind or stupid (and it wasn't fair to shout at him for being blind, because it wasn't his fault, but she hadn't told Ray yet.) When Ray or Daddy got stressed out by something Ray did this thing where his voice went louder, and he waved his arms around a lot, and Daddy did this thing where he went really quiet and his face went strange, like Daddy had gone away for a while and someone else was wearing his face. But she'd not seen that very often, and they always made up afterward. It happened once when Ray got his new job, the day before Daddy hurt his back, only they stopped when they realised she wasn't watching the cartoons anymore. And it happened another time when Daddy did something silly at work, involving 'apprehending a miscreant,' whatever that meant (and she really wished her dictionary was bigger). Ray had asked him if he wanted to get killed, and something to do with Canadians not believing in doors... which was silly, because Daddy used the door every day. And then they stopped when they realised Cathy had walked into the room, and they looked really sad when she asked why did Daddy want to get killed.

 

Now her chest was hurting so bad... badly? Bad. So bad that she was getting scared. What if her lungs really got full of whatever it was, and she couldn't breathe any more? And it was loud. It was making this really really scary sound. And she was getting wet, and hot. 

 

She sat hugging her toys, and stared at the door, in the dim light of her lamp. Sometimes she woke up for just a little minute in the middle of the night, and Daddy or Ray were tucking her in again. Maybe if she stayed awake long enough one of them would walk in, and she wouldn't have to shout. She wasn't sure if she could shout anyway.

 

Long slow tears trickled down her face, cool on her hot skin, and she stared at the door, waiting and hoping.

 

Her chest hurt.  
…

 

Fraser was pacing. Ray watched him from the couch, trying not to add to his nervousness. This is the wrong way round, he thought, Fraser's meant to be the one chilling out, reading a book, listening to music, playing damned sonatas on his air piano. Ray was meant to be the one fizzing about like a lunatic.

 

“Hey, Frase, relax. Sit down. Listen to your music. It's the first night in a week I don't have to do my super sleuth thing. So I'm doing super sloth instead. Sit down.”

 

“Yes, of course...” Fraser sat down, then sprang back up again, and returned to his anxious circuit of the living room.

 

Ray sighed. Problem was, he knew exactly how Fraser felt. But if he joined in, he'd just make it worse. He could see Fraser going completely up the wall, not to mention they'd start banging up against each other like dodgem carts. 

 

“Look, you said wait till she's asleep, then go check. That was your idea, not mine.” He tried to keep his anxiety out of his voice. Fraser didn't need to hear that. “So, just wait, okay? If you go bat shit crazy it won't help her. So sit the fuck down. Another hour won't kill her...”

 

Fraser turned on a dime and disappeared promptly through Cathy's door. Shit, Ray could kick himself. “Foot in mouth, that's me,” he grumbled, and got to his feet. To be honest, he wanted to check on Cathy himself. There was a cold going around. It had run through all the little Vecchios, and even Ma got it, on her chest. This morning Cathy had been a bit sniffly, and all day she'd been cranky and tired. He put the crankiness down to the fact that Fraser cancelled the trip to the swimming pool. Which he was glad of, because if Fraser hadn't put his foot down, he woulda had to, and he still hated saying 'no' to Cathy about anything.

 

He paused outside the door, taking a breath. It'd be all right, he thought. He'd stick his head through the door, and Fraser would be sitting next to Cathy, watching her sleep while he calmed the hell down. 

 

He opened the door and...

 

Fraser was wrapping Cathy up, lifting her, turning to the door, white face and...

 

Red and white minstrels. Fraser was white, and Cathy was really really red.

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Ray blurted out. “She's sick, she's sick, isn't she? Oh, oh fuck, what's wrong...”

 

Cathy opened her eyes. Her face looked like snails had crawled across it, shiny little tracks. Tear tracks and snot tracks. Oh, Jesus Christ, the poor little kid had been crying.

 

“Ray,” Fraser said, and he sounded completely calm, whatever his eyes were saying. “Can you hold her for me, while I pack a bag?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, 'course... hey, hedgehog, it's okay. Come on, come to Ray.”

 

She was bundled up like a caterpillar and couldn't move her arms to put around his neck, like she usually did. He held her tight in his arms, like an oversized baby, and kissed her forehead. She was hot, really really hot. And sweaty. He looked across at Fraser, grabbing her teddy and her doll, down on his knees now, pulling out her potty bag, with the diapers she hadn't needed to use for over a month now, even when she was tired. Wet wipes, towel, talcum powder... wouldn't they have that stuff at the hospital? Oh... Jesus. Hospital. Jesus Christ. He wasn't sure if he was cursing or praying, and he kissed her on the forehead again. She looked up at him and smiled, and said, “don't cry Ray.” It was only then that he realised he was blubbering. God, he was being comforted by a baby. “It'll be all right. She pushed her head against his chest, and he could feel the heat coming off her, right through the fabric of his shirt, dampness spreading against his skin.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Cathy, it'll be fine,” he replied. Pull yourself together, he thought. She's the kid. You're the adult. Don't you dare fucking cry.

 

Within moments Fraser had packed everything she could conceivably need. That military thing he had going was coming into its own. He slung the bag over his shoulder, put his arm around Ray's back, and started marching. “Come on, we're ready.” 

 

Out the door. They were out the door, and Cathy was crying again. “Face hurts,” she said, “too cold.” Ray was shaking. It wasn't particularly cold out here, not for January. Jeez, his little girl was burning.

 

In the car. Back seat. Fraser said it was safer. They couldn't put her in her car seat, and Fraser was trembling at the wheel. Oh God, Fraser couldn't drive. He knew Fraser was an excellent driver most of the time. He had to be, or he'd never have been a Mountie. But sometimes, when he was stressed, he went all to pieces.

 

“Frase,” he said, knowing that this was one thing he could do to help. “I'll drive.” Fraser shot him a grateful look, got out of the car, ran around to the passenger side, took Cathy out of his arms. 

 

Foot down, going through the lights. Fraser didn't say a word.

 

Pulling into the hospital... where the damned hell could he park? It was night time, fuck's sake, how could the car park be so full?

 

Leaning over the counter at reception, shouting at the woman behind the desk.

 

“Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray...” Fraser trying to calm him down. Then that Canadian charm offensive, and the woman changing her tune, deciding to be helpful. Batting her eyes at Fraser, and for once Ray wasn't going to do the jealous boyfriend thing.

 

And Cathy on a gurney, and running along next to Fraser, and them being stopped at the door.

 

Incubate, intubate... what?

 

“You can see her when she's stable...”

 

She's not stable? Cathy's not stable?

 

“You'll be able to see him, as her father, but I'm afraid only family can visit while she's in intensive care. Your friend will be able to see her during regular visiting hours...”

 

Friend? He was a fucking friend now? 

 

And he musta been thinking too loud, because there's Fraser losing it for once, and shouting. “Ray's not a fucking friend, he's her Dad...”

 

“No need to take that tone. If you don't calm down we'll call the police...”

 

Ray losing it too: “Fraser is the fucking police.”

 

And Fraser calming the hell down like he's flicked a switch, like he's sinking in the snow. “I do beg your pardon Doctor, as I'm sure you understand this is a stressful time for my partner and I. I've just realised that we do have documentation to prove that Ray shares joint custody with me. If you will allow my partner to wait here, until someone brings in the relevant paper work...”

 

And the doctor nodding like a reasonable human being. “In that case, if you both wait here. We'll let you know as soon as we have any news.”

 

And Fraser on the phone, telling Ray, Vecchio, Ray, where to find Cathy's bit of paper, that she was so proud of, from the hammer man.

 

And crying again, and an arm across his back, and Fraser holding him while he shook.  
…  
…

Ray was running, his long coat flapping out behind him. One of the cleaning staff shouted out to him, “no running in the corridors,” and he reigned in the urge to give a rude gesture. If anyone started a lecture he'd do his phoney just off the boat 'no speak English' act. 

 

He got himself turned about several times, but finally figured out which coloured line he had to follow to paediatrics. Shit. Some fucking detective. All he had to do was follow the yellow brick road. He leaned breathlessly on the reception desk when he arrived. The stitch in his chest reminded him that he should know better than to run, but... God. Cathy.

 

“Hey, sister,” he said, and gave the receptionist his most charming smile. Her badge said Rossini. She blushed, and smiled back. “I'm here for a little girl, Catherine Benton...” (Jeez, Benny and Kowalski had to get the paper work sorted so she'd be an official Fraser.) “Her Dads came in with her an hour ago...”

 

“Oh, yes.” She looked at her notes. “She's still in the intensive care unit.” Ray felt his heart clench, and drop. “Her father and his... 'friend' are in the waiting room. If you head that way.” Normally Ray would have given her a hard time for that 'friend' jibe. You could hear the quotation marks and sarcasm in her voice. As it was, Ray just nodded. “Thanks,” he said, and started back running in the direction she had pointed out. She called out at him, probably to slow down, but he just kept running.

 

The waiting room was empty, but for Benny and his Ray. Kowalski wasn't looking too good. Crying. He was leaning sideways against Benny, and Fraser's arm was wrapped around him, patting on his shoulder. 

 

Oh fuck. Please God they hadn't got bad news...

 

“Is Cathy all right?”

 

“We won't know anything for a while,” Benny said, dully. “She's in good hands.”

 

Okay, so that was just what they already knew. A little bit of relief bled through. “Okay, okay... that's not so bad." They could do with a reassuring voice. This wasn't the first time he'd been called to the hospital on a kid related emergency, and so far they'd all been fine. "Listen, I got you that thing from the judge.” He sat down next to Kowalski... Ray, and tentatively took his hand. “S'gonna be all right,” he said, as though he had inside knowledge. “She was okay this morning when I saw her, just a little cold. You got her here in good time.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kowalski sniffled. Ray fished around in his pockets, and pulled out some tissues. Kowalski rubbed his face, blew his nose, and tried to pull himself together. “Thanks, Ray, we, you know, we owe you.”

 

“Look, you want coffee?” He looked down at his feet. He was in danger of blubbing here, and neither of Cathy's Dads needed him to get mushy on them. “I'll get you coffee and, uh, M&Ms.” He'd spent enough time staking out hotels and so on, to know Kowalski's bizarre taste in beverages.

 

“Thanks,” Kowalski was looking slightly better. Maybe he'd cried himself out. He could be a real tough guy, Ray knew that, but he was one of those guys who was too open. He could see it for himself, and Stella had always confirmed it. Kowalski broadcast everything. Here's my heart, stamp all over it. Ray had no idea how he'd ever managed undercover. Apparently he'd been great at it though. Maybe it was like method acting. Get into your character and feel every damned thing. Jeez, it musta hurt.

 

“You want anything, Benny?”

 

“No, thank you Ray. I'm fine,” he replied. Ray looked at him, and felt something like... a draft maybe. Chilly. When he first got to the waiting room, it was the crying man who took up all his attention. Now that Kowalski was calming down, Ray was taking more in. Benny was not fine. He was all Mountie mask, and brittle cold.

 

“Benny?”

 

“I'm fine, Ray. Thank you kindly for the paper.”

 

Ray stood, hooked a hand round Benny's head, and tousled it, like he was baby Paulie. Unlike his estranged brother, Benny did not grin, or wince, or pull away. He just sat there like a statue.

 

“'Kay then, I'll get the coffee.” Once he was out of sight, he put his hand up to his chest, pulled in a tight breath. He had to remember he shouldn't run... He rummaged in his pockets, made his way to find the snacks. 

 

“Ray?” A woman's voice broke in on him as he fed the coffee machine. She sounded concerned. “How are you?”

 

He turned, and let out a sigh of relief at a familiar, and friendly face. Fraser's doctor. He'd seen her around a few times when Frannie was having her checkups. “Anna,” he said, “yeah, I'm fine. Here for a friend of mine. She's like my little niece, you know? She's come in as an emergency.” 

 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.” She fell into step beside him as he walked back to the waiting room. “What happened?”

 

“Well, she's got spina bifida. And usually she's all right, but she got like, this cold all the kids have been getting, only it went on her lungs, and she's had to come in. She's in intensive care.”

 

Anna nodded, gravely. “Well,” she reassured him, “we do have a very good paediatric unit.” she paused for a moment, seeming tentative. “Can I ask... is she Corporal Fraser's daughter?”

 

“Yeah, yeah... how do you know?”

 

“Ah, well, obviously I've seen you both together. The Corporal brings her here for her physio sessions. And he's started volunteering with the children on the oncology ward. It's some kind of liaising thing, fostering trust and understanding between two nations. Well, that's what he says. I think he just likes singing to them.”

 

Ray smiled. That was so... Benny. “I bet they love him.”

 

“Yes, they do. The nurses have started calling him 'baby tree', because the children climb all over him.”

 

Ray laughed, sharply, and put his hand to his chest. Jeez, he hadn't thought he had a laugh left in him. “You should see him with my nephews and nieces. He's stupid good with kids for a guy who grew up in the ass end of beyond with his grandparents and a gazillion books for company.”

 

Anna nodded, with an appreciative look on her face. “He's a good man,” she said. 

 

Awh, Jeez, he thought, who had he been kidding? Anna wasn't interested in him. She was interested Benny. He knew the interest wouldn't be returned, but he'd better protect Kowalski. The way he was at the moment, he didn't need anything else to feel bad about. 

 

“Yeah, he's a good man. So's his boyfriend.”

 

“Ah, yes. Mr Kowalski. Yes, they both strike me as very good fathers.”

 

Okay, so maybe he was wrong. If she knew Benny was in a gay relationship, then she wouldn't be after him, right? Yeah... right. Benny was sex on a stick, after all. It wasn't like he could help it. He could just walk into a room, and everyone would be staring at him like a cup of water in the desert. And that included straight men and lesbians. He grinned at the image. “Yeah,” he agreed, “yeah, they're brilliant Dads.”

 

“Do you have any children, Ray?”

 

“No.” The question hurt, as it had been doing since he and Stella broke up. It was the kind of thing they should have talked about before they got married, but they'd both been... well, he wasn't sure what it was. Could just be that he'd been desperately horny, (which was true as far as it went) or it could be he was glad to be alive and she was the first woman to show him any kindness. Could be a lot of things. Whatever. He had no clue what it had been for her. Within six months they were realising that things weren't working out, and though the sex was great it was becoming a fix, something they used to cover everything else that was wrong. Get in a huge fight, boink like rabbits all night. Got so he was having a pavlovian response every time a woman raised her voice. Got so he'd push her into an argument just so they'd connect. Got so she'd push him. Jeez, he must have driven the poor woman out of her mind.

 

Bringing kids into the middle of that would have been a horrible mistake, even if she'd wanted them. All these years, he'd honestly believed he'd never want kids. Told Angie he didn't want to be a father, but never told her why. He kept seeing himself turning into his own father, and it made his skin crawl. He knew it was stupid, knew he'd never take his belt to a kid, raise a fist to a kid, but still... he saw himself as a father, with the ghost of Pop right behind him.

 

“Are you all right, Ray?” Anna's voice broke in on his thoughts. He startled slightly, and slopped some of Kowalski's coffee on his fingers. 

 

“Owch. Yeah, yeah... sorry, just tired.”

 

She was looking at him with too much sympathy. Jeez, what had he just said in his silence? She looked like one of those women who could see right through you. And she was looking at him like... like... Wow, she had beautiful eyes. Not just golden honey, little flecks like freckles. For a moment he felt like kissing her. Then he came back to his senses. She was smiling. He stepped back.

 

“Sorry,” he said, “I think I'm lost again. Where's the waiting room?”

 

“I'll bring you,” she said. “Come with me.” She put her arm out and... What the fuck? She slid her arm round his, hooked it, so they were walking arm in arm. 

 

Don't... don't read anything into this, he told himself. She's just being friendly. Doctory. She can see you're upset. She's just looking after you...

 

She stopped, just outside the waiting room, turned to him, hands clasped loosely in front of her. Nice hands, he thought. Too long in the fingers to be beautiful, short finger nails. None of that nail varnish crap his sisters favoured. He blushed, and looked down, scared to look at her face in case she saw the need in there. He'd messed it up with women, so many damned times. He didn't have a glib joke or a flirt in him any more, and he wasn't quite sure what to do without them.

 

“Ray, can I ask you something?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, feeling like a fool, because it was all he could think of to say.

 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

 

He darted his glance up at her, then down to her shoes. Mother of God, she was actually interested... He watched her feet shuffling nervously. Sensible flats, he thought. Doctors couldn't run around in sexy shoes, but... her ankles were slender, her legs up to the hem of her skirt were lovely, and he was pretty damned sure even her feet were gorgeous.

 

“No,” he said. “There's nobody.”

 

“Would you be... I mean to say... would you be interested in meeting up some time? For... coffee?”

 

His throat clenched, and he stood frozen. Kowalski's coffee would be getting cold.

 

“I'm sorry.” He could see one foot move back, hook around the ankle of the other, as though she was hiding. Then he saw her take a step back. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Forget I asked.”

 

“No, no...” He looked up, fixing again on her beautiful eyes. “I'd love to, I mean, yes. Coffee.”

 

“Great.” The look of relief on her face suited her. “Next time you're here with your sister, or Corporal Fraser, or his daughter, ask at reception. Ask for me by name, and they'll beep me. If I'm able, we can meet up at the café for a chat.”

 

“Yeah, that's greatness,” he said, surprised to hear the Kowalski expression on his lips. “I'll get them to beep you.”

 

“Good.” She smiled, turned, took a few steps back down the corridor, stopped, turned again, and lifted her fingers in a wave. He felt himself grinning like a goof, and lifted his hand.

 

“See ya.”

 

She blushed again, and kept going. 

 

Jeez, he thought. I've got a date. Okay, it's at a crappy hospital café, and the food will be lousy, but a date.

 

Oh, shit. He couldn't beep her. He didn't know her surname.

 

And... what the hell was he doing, being chatted up by beautiful women? He had other things to do.

 

He pushed his way through the door, and gave Kowalski his coffee.

 

The three men sat silently, and waited.  
…

 

Finally the doctor came through, his face unreadable. Fraser was standing, without knowing how he'd got to his feet. He meant to ask the question, 'how is she,' but for some reason his voice had stopped. Instead it was Ray... which Ray? Oh, both of them, who asked the question.

 

The doctor looked quizzically at them, and Ray waved the judge's ruling at him, pulling out his driving licence. “See? Here I am, that's me. Stanley Ray Kowalski, right here. And this guy's a policeman, he can vouch for me.”

 

“So I see.” The doctor raised his eyebrows, glancing at Fraser. “And your friend is...?” He was gesturing, at Ray, standing with his wallet open, displaying his shield. No, hang on... Ray wasn't a police man any more. His Rays were... what was it... in cahoots, pulling a fast one on the doctor. That was Ray's private detective ID. Fraser tried to concentrate, tried to say something, but he was frozen, and couldn't quite focus on Ray... either of them.

 

“This is Cathy's uncle,” Ray was saying.

 

“Ah,” the doctor nodded. “Well, as you're all family... yes.” He rattled through his papers with excruciating slowness, the noise getting right inside Fraser's skull, and scratching. “Well, I'm afraid to tell you that Cathy's a very sick girl. She is, however, now stable. We've moved her into a side ward, to keep her away from other patients, and potential sources of infection. We have her on oxygen, and she's breathing well. We'll have to wait and see how she's responding to antibiotics.”

 

“How, how did this happen?” Fraser found his voice. “It's just a cold. The other children just got colds.”

 

“Well, Cathy's always going to be more vulnerable to infections than most children her age. She should get stronger as she gets older, and as she gets more exercise her lung capacity will increase, but she'll always have to be careful.”

 

“She exercises just fine,” her uncle Ray interrupted. “You should see her running about, playing on her walker with everyone.”

 

“I'm sure,” the doctor said. “In fact, looking at her charts its obvious that she's had quite a steep physical improvement since she first came in, what... four months ago?”

 

“Yes,” Fraser whispered. “She's just started using her walker...”

 

“Good. Good... well, it's very early days, but chances are that she'll recover. She's a very determined little girl. Would you like to see her?”

 

“Yes...”

 

“You won't all be able to go in. I'd suggest you see her through the glass, then decide amongst yourselves who will stay. I assume you want to stay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, good. A familiar face will be comforting to her. Very good.” The doctor was sounding more approving now, less stern. It didn't seem quite to matter. “However, the fewer visitors she has at this stage the better.”

 

“Come on, Benny, it'll be okay.”

 

“Yeah, Fraser, he's right. Let's go see her.”

 

His Rays were on either side of him, propelling him along the corridor, following the doctor. Dimly he was aware of the fact that, if they let go of him, he would stumble. 

 

And then they were standing at a window, and through the glass...

 

Oh, God, she looked so little. A mask on, and a drip in her arm, and he could see the bruises where the needles had gone in, to take blood. A monitor blipping, and numbers on the monitor... he gazed at them, forgetting how the numbers made sense. She was as motionless as the doll in her arms.

 

For a moment he saw nothing, then he was sitting on a chair, with his head between his knees. Ray was kneeling in front of him, and all Fraser could make out was green eyes in an intense face, and all he could feel was a hand gentle on the back of his neck, and a hand in his hair.

 

“Benny, you all right now?”

 

He nodded, dumbly, feeling the room waver as he moved his head. Ray looked up, at someone standing invisible to his side. “Hey, Kowalski, Ray... could you get the nurse to get a drink or something? Sweet tea. He needs sugar.”

 

“Yeah, sure thing Vecchio.”

 

His mind went completely blank, and he was drifting sideways, feeling Ray drift with him, as he held on. They were on a raft, and somebody had cut the rope binding them to shore. 

 

“Frase,” Ray was sitting beside him, and he wasn't on a raft any more. Ray was still kneeling in front of him, holding him steady, and Ray was sitting beside him, arm around him, holding tea. Slowly, he sat up. It struck him, for a moment, as absolutely hilarious that the two men he loved most in the whole world had the same name. He heard himself giggle, closed his eyes.

 

The Ray at his feet spoke to the Ray at his side. “Jeez, I think he's in shock. You stay here, I'll get a doctor.” Fraser heard a rustle as his friend stood, pictured the long coat, covered in dust now, and heard the lightness of his feet as he moved away. His other Ray, dear Ray, sitting next to him, must have put down the tea, because he was pulling him into a hug. Fraser closed his eyes, rested on his shoulder.

 

Pull yourself together, he thought, in his father's voice, and realised how much he missed him. Dear Lord, he thought, don't let Cathy be seeing her grandfather any time soon.

 

“Hey, Fraser. Ben, do you hear me? It's gonna be all right.”

 

All right, he thought, all right.

 

“Don't worry,” Ray was promising. “Don't worry. We'll be fine.”

 

Fraser clutched onto that. A mantra he had forgotten about, while things were good.

 

“Don't worry, we'll be fine,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Frase. Everythin's gonna be all right. You'll see.”


	19. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy starts to get better, entertains a strange visitor, and RayK gets seriously freaked out.

The first time she woke up, she thought they'd given her away. The room wasn't completely dark, but the light was funny and dim, like she was in a fish tank, or a turtle tank, or... there was a big glass window instead of a wall. Maybe they had put her in the zoo There was something on her face, and she couldn't move her arms. Then she thought maybe she was dead. She heard this horrible noise like a monster in the closet groaning at her, then she realised it was her, and that was even worse.

 

But it was all right, it was really all right. Ray was leaning over, stroking her forehead. She couldn't see his mouth, because he had a white thing over his face, like a bandit, and he had a paper hat on his head, so she couldn't see his hair, and his hand felt funny, with plastic gloves on. But she knew it was Ray, from his eyes, and his voice. His eyelids were spiky, like when they'd all been swimming. He must have got his face wet. “It's okay, hedgehog, I'm here.” And then he was humming a hush song, and even though his hands smelt all rubbery she stopped making that horrible noise. 

 

The next time she woke up, it was brighter, Daddy was next to her, wearing a paper suit, with the paper hat and mask thing, and his hands were the wrong colour, so he must be wearing those gloves too.

 

“Am I at the Consulate, Daddy?” She didn't know this room.

 

Daddy was leaning up to her, and she could see the smile in his eyes, even though his mouth was hidden. “No, Cathy, you're in the hospital.”

 

“Why am I in the hospital?”

 

“You were a little bit poorly, so we took you in so you could breathe better.”

 

“It wasn't my bobo, was it?”

 

“No, it wasn't your bobo.”

 

“Will I still be able to walk?”

 

“Yes, when you get better and strong again, you'll still be able to walk.”

 

“And we can go swimming?” Talking was making her tired, and her eyes were drifting shut. 

 

“Yes, Princess, we'll go swimming.”

 

“And Ray's eyes will be spiky again.”

 

She didn't hear then what Daddy said, because she was asleep.

 

Sometimes, she woke up, and Daddy was singing. One time he was talking to himself. Another time she woke up, and Ray was snoring, then woke with a start, saying “Cathy.” Usually when she saw him he was jigging his hands on his lap, or the arms of the chair. Once she woke up, and Uncle Ray was tucking Baby Doll in next to her. “Hey, Bambino,” he said, and he was a little bit sad, and a little bit smiley. The time after that it was Nonna Vecchio, with a pretty necklace in her hand. And then, one day, she woke up, and it was Daddy there, he wasn't wearing paper any more. She could roll over a little bit, so she turned, and looked at him. He was asleep, in his Mountie clothes, with his hat on his lap. But he hadn't shaved, and she thought his bristles looked good.

 

“Daddy?”

 

Daddy sat straight up, like he was on a spring. “Cathy!” He bent over the bed, and put his arms around her, very gently. “How are you?”

 

“I'm okay. I'm hungry.”

 

“You're hungry? That's wonderful.” He reached out for a buttony thing on its twiddly plastic cord, like a phone wire, and pushed it. A yellow light started flashing behind her bed, and she looked at it, puzzled. She remembered a red flashy light, and lots of beeping. The yellow light wasn't as scary.

 

“Why did you turn the light on, Daddy? What's it for?”

 

“Well, you see, when you push that button, a nurse is meant to come. And if they see your light is flashing, they know nobody's seen you yet.”

 

“Why did you call a nurse? You're here.”

 

“Well, you're hungry. She'll get you something to eat.”

 

She really was very hungry.

 

“Can I have fish, Daddy? And mashed potatoes?”

 

“I don't know. Why don't we ask her?”

 

“Okay. Oh, here's the nurse.”

 

A young man walked in, with a broad grin on his face, and turned off the flashy light thing. When she'd first come to this hospital, for her check ups she was surprised, because she'd thought only women could be nurses. But there were some men. 

 

“So, you're better are you, Catherine?”

 

“Cathy,” she said, putting her hand out. Like most adults, he looked puzzled at the gesture, but let her shake his hand. “Much better thank you kindly. What's your name, sir?”

 

“My name's Adam, little lady,” he said. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She hated when grown ups called her little anything, especially 'little lady'. Well, she didn't always mind 'little.' She didn't mind it when Ray called her his 'little hedgehog,' or when Daddy called her his 'little princess.' But they weren't really adults. They were Daddy and Ray. “So, what can I do for you,” the nurse continued.

 

“I'm really really hungry.”

 

“Hey, that's great,” the nurse said. “Means you're getting better. Shall I bring in a menu,” he looked at Daddy, “or will just anything do?”

 

“I want fish,” she said, solemnly, “and mashed potatoes.”

 

“Oh...” the nurse looked thoughtful, then smiled. “I think we can do that. What sauce do you want?”

 

She looked at Daddy, and thought about that beshy mel sauce he had taught Ray to make. Somehow, she didn't think the hospital would know how to do that.

 

“Do you have ketchup?”

 

“Ketchup and fish? Coming right up.”

 

The nurse winked at her, gave her Daddy the thumbs up, and left. She turned, more comfortably onto her side, and looked at Daddy. He'd never been bristly before, not proper bristly, like this. Sometimes he had that shadow on his face, but he always scraped it off. She put her hand out and stroked his face. “You feel like Ray,” she said. 

 

“I've not been home for a bit.”

 

“Are you in trouble at work? Because don't you need to respect the uniform and be smart?”

 

“Well, I've taken some time off work, apart from paper work at night time, and seeing the children here.”

 

“The baby tree children?” Cathy had come along with Daddy to see them a few times, when she'd been up to see the physio man. She felt very sorry for them, because they were still so pretty, even though they had no hair.

 

“That's right, the baby tree children.”

 

“I haven't seen them in ages,” she said, sadly. “How's Millie?”

 

Daddy didn't say anything, and she got frightened. 

 

“She's not died has she, Daddy?”

 

“No, sweetheart, she hasn't died.”

 

“Okay,” she said, and started sucking her thumb. “When's my dinner coming?”

 

“Soon,” Daddy said, and laughed. “Very soon.”  
…

 

The day Cathy was moved from the side ward should have been a good one, but Fraser was finding it very hard to hold a happy face. At some point, he was going to have to tell her about Millie...

 

He'd been to the Vecchio's to make a fuss of Dief, managed to have an actual bath, finished his half shift at the Consulate, reported to his Inspector, and taken the second draft of the presentation, so that he could work on it in his spare time. He carried the briefcase tucked under his arm, slightly across his chest. Then he recognised the gesture as what it was, a shielding mechanism, and took the briefcase by the handle instead. 

 

On the way to Cathy's new ward, he paused. He had to pass the oncology unit. Millie's father had called him at the consulate, and given him the bad news. They would still be there... Sam and Jenna. Millie's parents. He had to... he couldn't just walk past and say nothing.

 

He turned left, walked onto the ward.

 

Rose was behind reception today. She'd done something new with her hair. Corn rows. Normally he would comment on them, tell her that it suited her face, perhaps. (Which it did, of course.) Today, however, he was feeling stuttery and stupid. She smiled when she saw him. “Oh, Corporal... we weren't expecting you. Are you coming to entertain the children?” She frowned. “Did you forget your guitar?”

 

“No, I'm sorry,” he said. “Millie's Dad phoned... are they... are they still here?”

 

“Oh, of course,” she said, taking on a brisk professionalism. He supposed she had to. So many little children died on this ward. “Yes, yes... they're through here. I need to check with them if they want to see you. You understand.”

 

“Yes, I do.” Good Lord, he understood. His heart was cold at the thought that his own daughter had come that close... How on earth a parent could ever get through this, he couldn't begin to imagine.

 

Mrs Smithson was sitting rigid in her chair, not crying. Her husband was holding her, crying his eyes out. When he saw Fraser he wiped his face. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I don't mean to be... I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't be,” Fraser said, dropping his briefcase, and wondering what to do with his hands. Should he offer to shake the man's hand? Should he try to give a consoling squeeze on the shoulder? What? “I'm sorry... really sorry for...” good Lord, he could only speak in clichés, “sorry for your loss.”

 

“Thank you... she was... she was so special.”

 

“Yes, yes, she was.” Fraser smiled, painfully. “She used to wear my hat,” he told them, twisting it by the brim. “Said when she grew up she was going to live in Canada and be a Mountie.”

 

Oh, Lord, he shouldn't have said that. Sam Smithson was crying hard again, and... oh dear. Now he was crying too. Sam stood up, and banged into him he ran so hard for a hug, and Fraser held him. The man was going bald. He closed his eyes, and thought of Sam's little bald daughter.

 

The image faded, and Sam had stopped crying. He stepped back, blowing his nose, wetly, and sat down next to his wife. She moved her head, slightly, like an automaton, taking in her husband, and Fraser. “Corporal,” she said, “thank you for coming. Millie loved you.”

 

Fraser nodded, with a lump in his throat. Millie had been sick for years. In and out for one horrible treatment after the other. He had known her, what... four years? He remembered her prattling away, the first time he met her, as though there was nothing wrong in the world. She asked him why he was in a pram, and wanted to push his wheelchair. She liked to play mother to all the younger children, fell in love with Cathy the minute she saw her. He remembered the night Cathy came in, and how he broke, shambolically, all to pieces. He wasn't in danger of that now, but he remembered how it felt. He stared at the Smithsons, and felt like a lump of clay. Dumb and useless. There was nothing he could think of to help this couple.

 

“If there is anything I can do, you know how to get hold of me...”

 

“Yes, yes...” Jenna Smithson's voice faded, and she carried on staring at the wall.

 

“There is, there is something you can do,” Sam said.

 

“Anything.”

 

The man looked at his feet, scrubbed his eyes, almost viciously. “She said, if she did... if she did...”

 

“Die,” his wife interjected.

 

“If she did die, could you help carry the... the...”

 

“Coffin.”

 

Oh God. Funerals. 

 

“Yes,” he said, “anything.”

 

“Thank you,” Sam let out a sodden sigh, and took his wife's hands.

 

“I'll... I'll leave you both. You'll need time to...”

 

“Grieve,” said Jenna Smithson, in a voice like dead leaves.

 

“Yes,” he was twisting his hat. Sam looked at him thankfully, and Fraser nodded, picked up his briefcase, and left the little room.

 

Oh, God. He blinked, walked wordlessly past Rose on reception, and stepped out, turned right, followed the coloured strip to Cathy. His living, breathing child. 

 

How the hell was he going to tell her that her friend had died?  
…  
…

 

“Jesus, Vecchio,” Ray whispered, “what's she doing?”

 

“She's... talking.”

 

“Yeah, but who's she talking to?”

 

Cathy was sitting up in bed, cheerfully chatting to the air. Ray had put up with it as long as he could, but when he realised that she wasn't playing he started to feel sick, started shaking. And then Vecchio grabbed him by the shoulder, and walked him up the ward, so they could talk without Cathy overhearing. Got him a cup of water. Tried to pretend like everything was okay. 

 

“I... dunno who she's talking to,” Vecchio said, sounding unconcerned. “Maybe she has an imaginary friend?”

 

“She never had one before. And... it looks like whoever she's talking to, they're talking back.”

 

Vecchio was watching Cathy with a hooded expression. As though he knew or suspected something, but wasn't prepared to say it.

 

“What? What are you thinking?”

 

“I'm thinking... it's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

 

“Don't worry about it? She's in a room full of strangers, and they're all gonna think she's psycho.”

 

“She's a kid, they'll think she's playing.”

 

“But Cathy doesn't play like that.”

 

“You're over thinking it. New Dad syndrome, that's all. She's your first, and you've just had a big scare, so you're gonna panic. It's natural. But, they grow up,” he said calmly, “they go through phases. Maybe it's a phase. Maybe she does play like this now. Besides...”

 

“Besides what?”

 

“Uhm... you ever notice Benny do the same thing?”

 

Ray paused. Took a breath... Now that Vecchio mentioned it...“Yeah. Yeah... he used to do it. Before...”

 

“Before what?”

 

“Before all that crap with Muldoon.” And, oh fuck, Fraser had said... when he wasn't right, when they'd finished their quest... he'd said... that he'd seen... Oh Shit. His mother. His father.

 

“Yeah," Vecchio said, kind and competent, completely oblivious to what was going through Ray's head. "Do you think Benny's a psycho?”

 

No, he thought, I didn't think that... just... he was upset. That's all... But... it wasn't right. He looked at Veccho, frightened to say what he was thinking. Instead he said “I never meant Cathy was a psycho...”

 

“Yeah, but you're worried other people will think it.”

 

Vecchio was right. Cathy was lovely, just perfect... but...“It looks so damned weird, her sitting there talking to nothing.” He couldn't help it. He was frightened for her.

 

Vecchio pulled a face. “How do you know it's nothing?”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

“I just...” he closed his eyes. “Jeez, I never even told Benny this.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, let's just say, I've seen a ghost.”

 

“You... yeah, like at six in the morning when you've been on a thirty six hour shift and been drinking coffee till you piss black. You didn't have conversations with the damn thing.”

 

Vecchio said nothing.

 

“Did you?”

 

“I'm just saying, we're in a hospital. These things happen.”

 

“Do you think it's her medicine?” Ray clutched at a straw. “They had her on an anti spasm thing when her leg started jumping. You think it might be because she's coming off that crap?”

 

“Could be.” Vecchio didn't sound convinced.

 

“Oh shit, here's Frase. He's gonna freak out. Shit, shit, shit.”

 

Fraser was marching hurriedly toward them, tight in the face, hat in one hand, briefcase in the other.

 

“Frase,” Ray said, “listen, don't freak out... Cathy's...”

 

Fraser stopped stock still, dropped what he was carrying. Oh, good Jesus, the look on his face. He looked shit scared. He was really really gonna lose it...

 

“Millie,” he said, and walked up to Cathy's bed.

 

“Who's Millie,” Vecchio whispered. Ray stared at Fraser, as he dropped to one knee, and flinched. He didn't like the answer.

 

“She's... she's a little girl, a friend of Cathy's from...” he swallowed, “the cancer ward.”

 

Vecchio nodded, like this was perfectly ordinary. “Come on,” he said, “let's leave them for a minute.”

 

“I'm not going,” Ray hissed. “Jesus, what do you think I am?”

 

Vecchio sighed, and stayed put. “At least, if we see any of the nurses coming, try and distract 'em. I think Benny and Cathy need a little bit of privacy.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For talking to Millie, what do you think?”

 

Ray stared at Vecchio, horror struck. “You're telling me, you think she's really there?”

 

Vecchio looked at him, pointedly, then looked back at Cathy and Fraser. “What do you think?”

 

Ray looked at Fraser kneeling on the floor, smiling at nothing, his conversation seamlessly blending with Cathy's. The ward lurched like a elevator moving too fast. Ray stood and stared as the bottom went out of the world.  
…

 

Millie was scared, Cathy thought, which was strange, because Millie was a big girl. She was going to be nine soon, and she was really nice, because she'd invited Cathy to the party. Millie had never looked scared before. But Daddy was talking to her now, and he would help her feel better. Daddy always made Cathy feel better. He always knew what to say. Cathy was tired, and she didn't know what to say, so she gave up, sucked her thumb, and let Daddy do the talking. 

 

“I can't find my Mom and Dad,” Millie told him again. He had calmed her down, she wasn't crying so hard any more. “I looked everywhere, but they're not here.”

 

“I've just seen your parents, Millie,” Daddy reminded her. He'd told her that a few times, but she seemed to be able to hear him now. “Is there anything you want me to tell them?”

 

“I want to see them. I want them to give me a hug.”

 

Daddy looked really sad. “They won't be able to give you a hug for a little while, Millie.”

 

“Why? Do I have to go back into izzylation?”

 

“No, no sweetheart. You have to go somewhere else.”

 

“But I don't want to go somewhere else. I want to be with Mom and Dad.”

 

“Millie, darling, you'll be with your Mom and Dad again. But you've got to go ahead of them. There's a really nice place for you, where you'll all be together. But you've got to go first.”

 

“Is it like a holiday?”

 

Daddy smiled. “I think so. It's very beautiful. I saw my Mom and Dad go there, and there was a really beautiful light. And the sky was...” Daddy blinked. “I can't describe it. But it's a good place. You'll be happy there.”

 

“And they'll come too? I won't be there all alone?”

 

“No... you remember your Grandma? When you were sad because you wouldn't see her any more?”

 

“Yes...” Millie's hands were tugging on one of the loose threads of her hospital gown, and she was scratching her leg with one of her bare feet.

 

“Well, your Grandma's waiting to see you. I bet she'll be really glad when you get there.”

 

“Grandma's there?”

 

“Yes, she is.”

 

“And my Mom and Dad will come too?”

 

“Yes, they will.”

 

“Okay,” Millie looked sad. “I won't see you or Cathy for a while, will I?”

 

“Not for a while.”

 

“I'll say hello when you get there.”

 

“Millie,” Daddy spoke carefully. “Can you see the way now?”

 

Millie looked up, and her face went bright, like someone had opened the curtains on a sunny day.

 

“Yes,” she said. “It's really light.”

 

“Can you see anyone there?”

 

“Yes,” she said, and her face broke into a smile. “Yes, there's Grandma, and Granny, and Jason... oh, Petey. You remember Petey?”

 

“Yes, I remember Petey.” Daddy turned around, and followed Millie's gaze.

 

“Petey died,” Cathy said, puzzled. How could Millie be seeing Petey?

 

“No he didn't, silly.” Millie bounced and grinned at her. “Look, he's just there.”

 

Cathy turned to see what Daddy and Millie were looking at, but all she could see was Ray and Uncle Ray, and some of the other children staring at her funny. 

 

“I can't see him, Millie,” she said, and now she was upset. “Is it a game? Are you playing a trick on me?”

 

“It is a game,” Millie said, “all the bad stuff, it's not real. Everything's all right.”

 

Cathy sniffed, and started crying. She didn't understand.

 

Daddy bent his head close to Millie's and said, in a low voice, “it's time to go now, sweetheart. It'll be all right. I'll see you soon enough.”

 

Millie turned around, kissed Daddy's nose. Patted her hand on Cathy's, and it was very very cold. Then she started walking toward the door. But it was funny. The light must have done something funny. Because one minute she was walking, and the next minute everything was so bright it should hurt but it didn't. And then Millie wasn't there.

 

Cathy started crying, and Daddy got up off the floor, came up to her and gave her a hug. Ray and her uncle came up to them then, and Uncle Ray was carrying Daddy's bag and hat, and put his hand on Daddy's shoulder. Ray pulled the curtain around her bed. “Hey, hedgehog,” he said, and took her hand. He rubbed his fingers on the cold spot that Millie had touched, as though he knew it was there. “It's okay. You're okay.” His voice was shaky, but he was kind, and she squeezed his hand hard. 

 

By the time she'd stopped crying it was lunch time. Daddy pulled the curtains back, and the world was back to normal.

 

But Millie was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just wouldn't be due South without a haunting.


	20. A Metaphisto Conversation With Frannie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayK and Frannie have a metaphysical conversation, Fraser attends a funeral, and everybody is kung fu fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sex. Fraser gets wet, and Ray likes it.

Cathy was home, and she'd even managed to wobble about on her walker today, and it was all greatness, but... He was still freaked out. Yeah, yeah... he knew he shouldn't be, he knew that. It wasn't like it anybody's fault that Fraser DNA apparently flicked on an 'I see dead people' switch. But still, he kept looking at Cathy thinking, 'please, please, please God don't do that to her again', and then he'd look at Fraser and think, 'what else don't I know about you?' Worst of it was, Fraser had actually told him, and he'd not heard it. Or he'd heard it, and not believed him. Easier to think Fraser was cracking up than he might really see ghosts.

 

What the hell did it say about him that he freaked out big time, and Vecchio just shrugged his armani clad shoulders and took it in his stride?

 

Jeez, he thought, he shoulda listened to his Grandma more, when he had the chance. Then he felt something like a cold trickle creep down between his shoulders. What the hell would he do if Babka actually turned up?

 

Okay, okay. Calm down. You're not a Fraser, you've not seen a ghost yet, why would you start seeing them now?

 

Really, he thought, he should talk to Fraser about this crap. But Fraser was understandably reluctant to talk about it, and he didn't feel like pushing the subject. He was just glad he hadn't known Millie that well, that nobody would look at him sideways for not going to the funeral.

 

Well, nobody but Frannie, of course.

 

Cathy was lying on the floor, propped up on her elbows, trying to cram a jigsaw together, (actually, it looked like it might be two jigsaws mixed up into the same box, but he'd let the Fraser mind deal with that one) when there was a knock on the door.

 

“Hey, come on in.”

 

Frannie stood there, with her arms folded, resting across the top of her bump. “What the hell are you thinking?”

 

“Well, that's nice. I invite you into my home, and you 'what the hell' me. You're not a vampire, are you?”

 

“No I'm not a vampire. What are you on about?”

 

“Well, you're not supposed to invite vampires into your home. I could see you 'what the helling' me if I did something stupid like that. But since you're not a vampire, what the hell are you 'what the helling' me about?”

 

“What the hell? What I want to know is, why are you letting Benton go to that little girl's funeral all by himself?”

 

“Oh...” He wanted to say something else, a nice juicy curse, perhaps, but he just realised he'd been helling away, and Cathy might overhear. “Look, just come in will ya?”

 

Frannie pushed her way through, and broke into a Vecchio smile when she saw Cathy on the floor. Her eyes were a completely different colour from her brother's, but they were just as pretty. He shook his head. Why was he even thinking about pretty Vecchio eyes? He must be really head-fucked, he didn't even think of Frannie that way. Fraser was at that damned funeral, and he was freaked, and his brain was looking for distractions. Frannie squatted down next to Cathy (and should she be doing that in her condition?) “Whatcha makin' sweetie?”

 

“This puzzle's broken,” Cathy said, crossly. “It's got eight corners, but it's meant to be a square. And it's a picture of the desert, so it should be blue for the sky and yellow for the sand. But I keep finding trees.”

 

“I think it must be two puzzles in the same box.”

 

Cathy nodded. “That would make sense. Well,” she sighed dramatically. “I suppose I have my work cut out.” She peered intently at the pieces, stuck her tongue out so far she was nearly touching her nose, and kept on sorting and sifting.

 

Frannie stood, gave him a dirty look, and made her way to the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, Frannie, why don't you help yourself,” he said, trying not to sound sarcastic. “You know where everything is.” 

 

There was banging in the kitchen, as she helped herself. Vecchios and kitchens, he thought, and laughed, reluctantly. They can perform miracles in there, but they can't be quiet.

 

Finally she'd made coffee (proper coffee, another Vecchio virtue) and was sitting at the table, looking less, er... belly jerry? What the fuck was that Fraser word? Less on the warpath. He scraped out a chair and joined her. She pushed a mug toward him over the table top, and a bowl full of M&Ms. He proceeded to desecrate the contents by dropping in the chocolate. She passed him a spoon and waited. He stared at his coffee, and tried to think what to say. Jeez, didn't she know a teaspoon was way too small to do the job properly? He needed a desert spoon at least to mash 'em up. Hang on, that's not what he wanted to think about at all. Why hadn't he gone to the funeral? He supposed... hey he musta been the one to get the jigsaws mixed up. Maybe it was at Christmas when Fraser was packing everything neatly and he was...

 

“So, go on, spill. What is it, Ray? It's not like you to bail on Fraser.”

 

“I didn't bail on him. I didn't know the girl that well. He said I didn't have to go.”

 

“Well, of course he did. He wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to.”

 

“So it's okay for you to come and give me shit about something that doesn't even bother him?”

 

“Look, it bothers him, okay? You should know that. Funerals bother him.”

 

Oh, shit. She was right. He'd always known funerals bothered him... what if he was out there now, trying to ignore a buncha ghosts? Nah, Fraser had said he didn't see them very often. But still, she was right. The way Ray figured it, funerals reminded Fraser of a funeral he couldn't remember, when he was six. He put his head on the table, folded his fingers across the back of his head, and groaned.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Hey, language,” she said. Then, more gently, “what's wrong Ray?”

 

He sat up briskly, grabbed his coffee, and started swigging it. Dutch courage. Well, caffeine courage. He scooped up some M&Ms, and started crunching. She sat back, drinking her... wow, bark tea, waiting for him to speak. Yeah, of course, she was pregnant. She was avoiding caffeine. So she'd made the coffee for him.

 

“Listen, Frannie... I don't know what your brother's told you, and I don't want you to think I've gone...” he paused, and made a 'blibble' noise, wobbling his lips with his finger.

 

“Why would I think that?”

 

“Well, you know when Millie died?” He dropped his voice. “It was the day Cathy got off the side ward.” She nodded sympathetically. “Did your brother tell you anything about it?”

 

“Just that Cathy's friend died. I'm sorry, it must have been hard on you, I mean, your daughter getting better and someone else's daughter dying.”

 

“Yeah... but...” He put his head back on the table. “That's not it, Frannie. That's not it at all.”

 

“What is it then?”

 

Still with his forehead pressed up against the wood he mumbled, “do you believe in ghosts?”

 

“You saw a ghost?”

 

“No.” Spit it out. “Cathy did, and Fraser. They saw Millie.”

 

“Oh.” Silence. “Is that it?”

 

He sat up and glared. “Don't tell me you've seen a ghost too. As if Vecchio aint bad enough...”

 

“You mean my brother's seen a ghost?”

 

She looked surprised, and Ray backed up a bit. “Shit, sorry... er... yeah. He told me something.”

 

She nodded, looking sad. “That would explain a lot.”

 

Crap. Maybe Vecchio was like Fraser, talking at walls. “Hey, I'm sorry, I kinda thought you'd know.”

 

“Shoulda guessed.” She blinked, sipped her tea. “But, you know, it seems to have stopped. Whatever it was.” She focussed her attention on him again. “So. Why exactly didn't you go to the funeral?”

 

“What...” she was serious. Wasn't it fucking obvious? “I was... freaked.”

 

“Yeah. I see that. Look, just get over it. Okay, so the world's messed up and weird. It's the same today as it was yesterday. Only difference is, now you know more.”

 

Frannie was talking sense. That was an even bigger freak-fest than the ghost thing. He took another gulp of coffee, and started chuckling.

 

“What's funny?”

 

“When did you get so wise?”

 

She smirked. “I've always been wise. What, you only just realised?”  
…

 

Well, Fraser thought, as he wearily trudged home. His grandmother would have approved. What was it she said? Happy the corpse the rain rains on. Strange thing to say above the Arctic tree line. It didn't rain all that often. Perhaps the Yukon was full of unhappy ghosts.

 

He wished... he wished that he could have told Sam and Jenna that their daughter was all right, but they would simply assume that he was offering platitudes. They would have thanked him, but taken no comfort from his words. He sighed. It was hard to see them, the father trying to look stoic, but weeping again as his daughter's body was lowered in the ground. The mother walking, sitting, standing, a ghost herself, while her sister tried to keep the umbrella over her head. Water running down her face, but not from tears. A little white coffin. On a whim, he had placed his hat on it, with all the flowers, and it went down with her, into the earth. Her father had choked, and squeezed his arm. Her mother had closed her eyes. He'd have to replace it, he thought, vaguely, brushing rain out of his eyes. He realised people thought that he was crying, then wondered if it was true.

 

He had decided to walk back from the graveyard, and realised at some point that, even in his long uniform coat, he was going to going to be drenched. Ray would not approve, he thought. He worried about him. He worried too much. Fraser puzzled at it. Ray had been more protective than usual recently. More protective, and less communicative. He wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

 

The warmth breathed out on him on him as he opened the door, and he felt slightly nauseous. Central heating was a marvellous invention, but there were times he missed the crisp air of the Arctic. Not that he wanted to be cold. But he preferred the weather to be real.

 

Ray greeted him in the hallway, and rolled his eyes at him. “Jeez, Frase, you never learn. You walked back in this? Don't go breaking your back on me again. Come on, turn round.” Fraser mutely allowed Ray to take his coat off, heavy with rain, and thought again of house froo froos. Since Ray was working that particular tension had dissolved between them, but it still played in the back of his mind. That he had a tendency to take Ray for granted. They were partners, in everything. Ray was putting his coat on a hanger to dry out, and Fraser stepped up to him, forgetting that he was wet, and put his arms around him, kissed. 

 

“Awh, Ben,” Ray's voice was low and needy. “Jeez, you're sexy wet.”

 

“Oh,” he stepped back and looked at himself, looked at Ray. “I'm sorry... I didn't realise...”

 

“That you're sexy? Blind man.”

 

“Is... is Cathy asleep?”

 

“Yeah, 'bout an hour now. She got all Frannied out.”

 

“What story did she get tonight?”

 

“A Frannie story. Who knows? Probably telling her that she saved you and Vecchio from that bank vault.”

 

Fraser made a valiant attempt to smile. “Well, she certainly tried.”

 

Ray looked at him, assessing the situation. Of course, Ray wasn't stupid. He could see he was upset. Fraser was about to speak again, to reassure him, when Ray went off on one of his random connections. “You got wet then too, didn't you?”

 

“Well, yes Ray, we did.” Fraser was puzzled. What did this have to do with anything? “The vault was filling up with water.”

 

“Bet you looked sexy.”

 

Ah. Fraser understood. Ray was a man with a mission. He was going to try to make him feel better. He smiled, sadly. He loved him for trying. Maybe he'd feel better after a night's sleep. “You seem somewhat single minded today, Ray.” 

 

“'S'all your fault for looking like that,” he replied. “You should come with a sex warning...” He put his hands out, and started unbuttoning the red tunic. “You need to get out of these clothes now, you know that, dontcha?”

 

“Uhm... yes?” Ray was pulling him by the lanyard. “The, uh, the lanyard should have come off first.” In fact, now that he thought of it, he had no idea how Ray had managed to get his serge tunic off while leaving his lanyard on... everything was a tangle on the floor. Oh good Lord, his uniform was going to be a sorry mess...

 

“Yeah?" Ray tugged him toward him. "I want to get to the good stuff.”

 

“Where are we going, Ray?”

 

“Bathroom. You need nice fluffy towels to get you dry.”

 

Fraser felt a quirk on his face, despite himself. “I thought you liked me wet?”

 

Ray's fingers were all over him. He had his tunic off, his braces down, and was tugging on his shirt. Lord help him, Ray had figured out how to undo his many straps with his eyes closed. He wasn't quite sure how he'd got so dishevelled within moments of walking in the door. Ray finally pulled the lanyard off, followed by his wet shirt which peeled over his head, then his vest. And he... frankly, Ray was oggling him. “What do you say, Frase? Shall we get wet together in the shower...”

 

“That sounds... interesting.” Ray certainly seemed a lot happier than when Fraser had left. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

 

“I had a metaphisto conversation with Frannie, and Cathy fixed the jigsaws.”

 

“And your metaphysical conversation was about what, exactly?”

 

“The world's bigger than I thought. And that's greatness.” He looked down at Fraser's crotch, and grinned. “I bet there's greatness in those clowny pants you wear.”

 

“They're scarcely clowny...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, all the rage in the eighteen hundreds. You know your uniform is so... what's the word?”

 

“Sexy?”

 

“Yeah. Sexy.”

 

“I seem to recall you looked good in it too.”

 

“Well, you shoulda said something.”

 

“As I recall, we were tied up, and waiting to be shot.”

 

“All the more reason you shoulda told me.”

 

Fraser paused for a moment, considering. “Actually, that's a valid point. Uhm... what are you doing?”

 

“Pulling your pants down.”

 

“We're nowhere near the bathroom.”

 

Ray looked at him, mischievously. “I'm improvising.”

 

“We've got water and mud all over the floor...”

 

“Shut up, Frase.”

 

“You can't... I mean, I need to take my boots off before the trousers...”

 

“Like you in your boots. Besides, this way you can't run.”

 

“Ray,” he gasped, “what are you doing?”

 

“You know what I'm doing.”

 

“Oh.” He shook. Why would he run? “That's... nice.”

 

Ray was humming happily, and nuzzling his nethers. Oh dear. He giggled. Nethers. Ray looked up. “You in a giggly mood?”

 

“Apparently...” which was odd really. He'd just come back from a funeral, and...

 

“Good. You stand there, and we'll see how loud I can make you laugh.”

 

“Cathy...”

 

“Is out like a light. Besides, Daddy laughing won't bother her.”

 

Fraser found his hands on Ray's head, fingers clasping and unclasping in his hair, pushing. He was...

 

Oh. A thread of laughter rose in him, with the anticipated shock of a warm mouth engulfed him. He closed his eyes. Ray was humming. What... what was he humming? Something, something Ray and Cathy thought was terribly funny...

 

Ray slid off his erection for a moment, looked up at him again.

 

“Don't stop...”

 

“I'm not gonna stop.” Ray's hand was feathering between his legs, fingers dancing gently on his scrotum. Really... that wasn't buddies. That was just teasing. Fraser's hand went down, and Ray grunted, slid his mouth back over the head. Fraser let go. This was better... Oh, much, much better. Ray was humming again. Suddenly Fraser remembered the song, gasped out a laugh and started singing, the words breaking up as he struggled to breathe.

 

“Everybody was kung fu fighting...”

 

Ray was laughing, working his tongue around him, the chuckles making Fraser jerk in his mouth as though his penis had the hiccups, and at that image he lost the plot, lost the tune, lost the words, as laughter and orgasm overtook him.

 

Ray swallowed, and sat back on his haunches, looking very very smug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could do links on this! Gargh!!! 
> 
> Anyway, Ride_Forever wrote a wonderfully funny fic, by the unlikely title of "Here There Be Either Dragons or a Ptolemaic Universe," ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/448743 ) which, even though it's perfectly innocent, gen, non slash, etc, got Kung Fu Fighting stuck in my head... with... well, the above embarassing results. Though I don't think the boys are particularly embarassed about it. Obviously, they don't know we're watching.


	21. Pride of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy is a mini Francesca, Fraser and RayK just look like rock stars, but ain't, and the boys go mother duck on RayV.

That's it, Ray thought, hand to his chest and leaning over to catch his breath. He was gonna have to do something about this. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Shit, he looked rough. First thing he was gonna have to do was bail on Kowalski tonight. He wondered, briefly, if he'd finally caught that winter cold that had given everyone else the sniffles, and put Cathy in hospital. It didn't feel like a regular cold.

 

It was definitely something though, and there was no way he could ride shotgun with Kowalski and the guy not notice. That guy noticed everything... a great talent in a private detective, but pretty damned annoying in a friend. 

 

Kowalski was cool about it though. “Yeah, don't worry buddy.” His voice on the phone was a little too concerned though. “What's up? You don't sound so good.”

 

“I think I might have a bit of a cold, that's all. You know what Ma's like. Fusses.” He closed his eyes briefly. A guy in his forties, still living with his mother, and using her as an excuse. He might as well say, “hey, sorry I can't come out to play today, Ma won't let me.” Shit. He hurried on, trying to sound less like a Momma's boy. “Anyway, I've got a loada paperwork to catch up on as well.”

 

“Okay, thanks Vecchio. You look after yourself, right?”

 

“I always do.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Kowalski sounded less than convinced, and Ray was stupidly relieved that the conversation ended without him coughing like a smoker down the phone and deafening anyone.

 

Damn. He had a wet rattle...

 

He phoned Sally, his receptionist, and asked her to relay any important messages to his home number, and bring the paperwork across. The house was usually quiet during the days, when the kids were at school. It would just be him and Ma. He'd even have the place to himself, when she went to Mass. He sighed, thinking of her increased religiosity. His fault, really. The whole Vegas thing had been so hard on the whole family. He often wondered what would have happened if he'd just put his foot down and said 'no' to the Feds. He could have done, he supposed, but at the time he felt... No, he couldn't have turned it down, any more than Benny could turn down a case, or Dief could turn down a donut. Maybe it was Benny's influence, he didn't know, but overriding every instinct he had to run away from it, run hard, run fast, was another instinct... stronger. Huh, he thought, surprised, as he finally put a name to it: 'Maintain the Right.'

 

The worst thing about it was that he hadn't had a chance to tell Benny what the hell was going on. The Bookman died, and the Feds swept in and inserted him into the man's life in the blink of an eye. Just like that. And Benny came back from his first vacation in forever, with no way of knowing what the hell was going on, and Ma, Frannie and Maria had a huge secret dropped on their laps, while the rest of the family... God knows what they surmised when he disappeared. He knew for a fact that Paulie had misconstrued the entire situation.

 

Never mind, he told himself. You're back now, you survived it, they survived it. Stop beating yourself up. 

 

Phone calls out of the way, and breakfast cleared from the table, he settled in the dining room at the big table, spread out his files, and started to work. In the background Ma was singing, cleaning the house, bustling about doing mysterious Ma things. At noon she started praying the Angelus, and he rolled his eyes, started humming to himself to drown out the noise until she had finished. He thought, blasphemously, “The Angel of the Lord declared unto Ma, sit down woman and have a break, eat a pastry or something.” He laughed. Ma would kill him if she knew what he was thinking.

 

Then again, Ma had surprised him, pleasantly, by the easy way she accepted Benny and Kowalski as a couple. He'd honestly have expected her to be old school homophobic. But although she'd said she didn't want to think about what they did in bed together, she also said it was none of her business, and they were obviously happy. Yeah, that's my Ma, he thought. He'd known her his whole life, and she could still impress him.

 

She'd finished the Angelus, and came into the room, smiling. “Raymondo, I'm going to the stores. Is there anything you'd like?”

 

He thought briefly of savoury pastries, which he would normally munch on at this time of day, then realised he wasn't terribly hungry. “I'll let you surprise me,” he said, smiling. She kissed him on the forehead, and frowned. 

 

“You're a little bit hot, are you sure you're all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just got that cold, finally.”

 

“Well, I'll get some honey.” Oh, great, he thought, she's going into earth mother strega mode. I'm gonna be drinking herby honey teas till they're coming out my ears. For a moment he wondered where Benny got it from... he did the exact same thing. Maybe he was a distant relative or something. He wondered if any of Ma's ancestors had ever made it to Canada. That'd be pretty cool, if rather unlikely.

 

“Hey, Ma,” he said affectionately. “I'm absolutely fine.”

 

She patted him on the back of his head, and he felt like a ten year old again. How the hell did she do that? Embarrassed, he put his nose back into his work, and carried on, shuffling through the files, compiling notes, and tracking patterns. Thank God, he thought, as he began to write up the third report of the day, for laptops. And spell check... he couldn't figure out how he'd ever managed without them.  
…  
…

 

Today was the big day. Fraser had saved up his hours, and taken the day off, so that they could make a proper celebration of it. It might seem like a silly thing... just a piece of bureaucracy really, but it was big. It was big for them... big for Cathy, big for him and Ray. And really, when he thought of it, nearly five years too late. It had taken forever to cut through the red tape... but here they were, finally, getting Cathy's birth certificate updated. She'd woken up early, as though it was Christmas (or, he supposed, her upcoming birthday) and had been wriggling around like Ray, with, as she informed him, “ants in her pants.” She calmed down long enough to be dressed up in her favourite “princess dress,” which Maria had altered from Fifi's first communion gown. Fifi was not a very tall child, but she was older than Cathy, and there was still a lot of tucking and cutting to be done before it was suitable. Cathy had grown just under three centimetres since she arrived in Chicago, a great deal, or so he was informed, but she was still petite. 

 

And today she was smiling and trying not to giggle or wriggle, while he braided her hair up in a French plait and twirled little ringlets to frame her face. He thought, uncomfortably, of her mother's beautiful hair, then reminded himself that Cathy was neither him, nor Victoria. She was always, and forever, herself.

 

“There you go, Princess,” he said, and allowed her to look in the mirror. She patted her face, then tipped her head backward, so she could kiss his chin.

 

“Thank you Daddy.”

 

“Now,” he said, “you'll have to use your chair outside today, because we'll be doing a lot of walking around.”

 

“I want to walk too...”

 

“I know, sweetheart, but we've got a lot planned, and you'll be very tired if you try to walk the whole time. You can walk when we get home. How about you help me in the kitchen? I'm going to make a fishy dish.”

 

“That sounds yummy.” Cathy was going through a phase where she'd eat fish with every meal. Ray declared that she would eat fish with custard, and, all things considered, Fraser thought he might have a point. Presumably her body craved the omega oils, he told himself.

 

“Okay, let's say goodbye to Dief, and we'll head out.”

 

“Who's going to look after Dief today?”

 

“Ah, Mrs MacGill is going to take him around the block at lunch time, and then Willie is going to take him for a long walk after school.”

 

“Will Willie still be here when we get back?”

 

“He asked if I could help him with his math homework, so yes, he should still be here.”

 

“Will he eat fishy food with us?”

 

“I imagine so.”

 

“Good,” Cathy declared firmly. “I like Willie.”

 

Fraser smiled. Willie was turning into a very responsible and hard working young man. “You're a good judge of character,” he told his daughter. “Yes, I like Willie too.”

 

“When we're in the car, can you tell me the story of when he ran off to Canada, to save Dief?”

 

“Well, he didn't exactly get as far as Canada, but yes, I'll tell you the story again.”

 

“And can we go to Canada sometime?”

 

“I hope so, princess.” Maybe one day, he thought. When she was a little older, and stronger. There were times, still, when he yearned for his home so much that it hurt. And then he felt guilty, because he had everything here. Ray, and Ray, and Cathy, and all the Vecchios, and work, even though work was a lot duller these days...

 

Stop it, he told himself, firmly. Just get yourself up to City Hall, and then we'll do whatever Cathy asks for.

 

“Now, remember, we'll meet Ray at the office, and hopefully we won't be there too long. And then you decide where we're going next. We'll eat wherever you want us to...” (please God, he thought, not McDonald's) and we'll go wherever you like, so long as it's not swimming.

 

“I want to go swimming.”

 

“I think we should wait another week, okay? Just till you're a little bit stronger.”

 

Cathy pouted. “Just like a man,” she said, with more than a hint of Francesca. “You worry too much.”

 

Fraser laughed, kissed her hair, and deposited her in her wheelchair. “It's only because I love you so much,” he said.”

 

“I love you, and I'd let you go swimming.”

 

“I wasn't just in hospital.”

 

She pouted, then made a huge raspberry noise at him, and giggled. He stared at her, solemn faced, and blew a raspberry back.  
…

 

Daddy was right. Ray was waiting for them at the officey place where she was going to get her... she shut her eyes for a moment and turned dictionary pages in her head till she found the word. That was it. Her certificate. Ray was dressed up very smartly, like the day when they went to see the hammer man. His hair wasn't so hedgehoggy as usual today. It was half way between hedgehog and “skullcap” as he called it. It looked nice. And he was bouncing from foot to foot, grinning as they arrived.

 

“Hey, sweet knees, you look gorgeous! Love your hair!”

 

“Yours is good too,” she informed him. “It's like your hedgehog went to sleep and all it's spikes went down.”

 

Ray bent down, beaming at her, and smoothed out the ruffles on her princess dress, took her hand, and kissed it, like he was being Daddy for the day. “Let's get your certificate, okay?”

 

“Okay. Can I roll my wheelchair?”

 

“You sure you're strong enough?”

 

She gave him a pointed look. “I'm your daughter, aren't I?”

 

Ray stood up, looking grinny grinny happy happy, and said, “yup. That you are.” Then he took Daddy's hand, and they did a tip tap kiss, where they hardly touched, and whispered at each other. Daddy was grinning too. The three of them made their way to the elevator together. “Can you reach the button, hedgehog?”

 

“Yes,” she said, “I saw the sign, we need the third floor.”

 

“Clever girl,” said Daddy approvingly. Cathy hugged herself as the elevator began its ascent. 

 

“I can read anything at all,” she said, proudly. “Well, anything in English.”

 

“I'm sure you can,” Ray replied. 

 

“That doesn't mean I understand it though,” she admitted. “I tried to read the newspaper yesterday,” she declared, her voice raising to an irritated squeak, “and do you know something? It made no sense at all.”

 

Ray laughed. “Yeah, well, I'd have to agree with you there.”

 

“To be fair,” Daddy pointed out, “you were trying to read the financial pages.”

 

She nodded. “And it was very, very, very boring.”

 

The doors to the elevator opened, and before her Dads could push her she grabbed the wheels and trundled out herself. “We're here!” she called out, excitedly, and made her way to the desk.

 

Daddy walked up, and stood on one side of her, Ray on the other. She looked between the two of them. “Well?” She said, “ring the bell!”

 

“Patience, princess, the receptionist won't be long.”

 

Ding ding ding! Ray smacked his hand on the bell repeatedly, giving her a conspiry constipy... oh she didn't remember the word. A cheeky grin. 

 

“Ray!” Daddy sounded shocked. “There's no need to be so...”

 

“Chicago?”

 

“I was going to say...”

 

They were interrupted by the receptionist. “Yes?” She sounded a bit annoyed, for some reason. Cathy reached her hands up, and grabbed the desk with her fingers. She wanted to pull herself up to stand, but Daddy had put the straps on. Instead she called out.

 

“We've come for my certy fick at.” She could spell it properly, but it was a long word, and it was a bit hard to say.

The receptionist looked down at her startled. “Oh, I didn't see you down there...”

 

“Yes,” Daddy said, “we've come to pick up my daughter's birth certificate. We brought in the last of the paperwork last week, and were told that we could pick it up today.”

 

The receptionist pulled out a file from a tray thing, with writing on it. Cathy let go of the desk, and pointed at the tray. “Oh, I remember this one,” she said. “You've been waiting a while for them to sort this out, haven't you? I should have the paperwork here somewhere...”

 

Cathy peered at the woman's desk. It was really interesting. There was a cup with coloured balloons painted against a white background, and it was full of pens and pencils, and one of the pencils had a woodpecker thingy dangling on it. There was a computer and a stack of three things that looked like shelves, and they all had writing on them. “'In box,'” she said. “What does that mean?”

 

“Ah,” the receptionist said, and she'd stopped being cross and was smiley at her. “It's a box which people put things in when they come in from another office.

 

“Why don't they call it an in tray? Oh, no, that sounds like entrée, that would be silly.”

 

“Well, anyway dear, we need someone to come and witness this when I sign it.” She looked at Daddy and Ray. “I suppose you have all your ID and papers prepared?”

 

“Yes,” Daddy said, pulling a file out of his work bag. Brief case, she thought, that was the word. Brief was 'letter' in French, and something like 'short' in English. She wondered if they used to mean the same thing, and why they changed. Did the English write shorter letters than the French? “Here you are,” he continued. “I think you'll find everything is in order.”

 

“That's all fine,” the woman said. “So, I suppose it's time to write in your daughter's name. Catherine, I assume... Fraser?”

 

Cathy put her fingers in her mouth, and went mischievous. “I want to be called Cathy Princess Hedgehog Fraser.”

 

Daddy and Ray looked at her, wide-eyed, and Ray turned his head, taking in a sharp breath, trying not to laugh.

 

“Cathy,” her Daddy said. “Other children will tease you if your name is Princess Hedgehog.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray joined in. “And everybody'll think that your parents are rock stars. Which we just look like rock stars, but we ain't.”

 

“Okay,” she giggled. “I was only teasing. I know what I really want to be called.”

 

“What's that, sweetheart,” Daddy asked, looking at her cautiously. 

 

“Well, I've always been Catherine Benton, so I want to stay Catherine Benton...”

 

The woman interrupted. “In that case I will only need to add the name of the father...”

 

“No,” Cathy blurted out. “I want to be called after both my Dads.”

 

“So, what would that be?” The woman sounded slightly frazzled, and slightly puzzled. She glanced at Ray, apologetically. “I'm afraid you won't be able to be listed on her birth certificate.

 

“I know,” Ray said in a grumpy voice.

 

“Yes he will,” Cathy said. “I'm going to have his name too. Catherine Kowalski Benton Fraser.”

 

“Awh, Jeez...” Ray sounded wobbly. She looked up at him nervously, and hoped she hadn't made him sad, but he was smiling.

 

“That's a bit of a mouthful,” the woman behind the counter said, with a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

 

“Yes, but it's my name,” said Cathy. She chewed Teddy's ear. What if the woman said no? “Please?”

 

The woman smiled, looked at Daddy and Ray. “If it's okay with your Daddies,” she said.

 

Daddy nodded, and dropped his hand on her head, stroked her hair. He looked like Ray too, a bit shiny faced, and happy. “That's fine by us,” he said. 

 

And then the woman spoke on the phone, and then another woman came, and then Daddy and Ray paid some money, and then they signed a form, and then she got her new name.

 

“Can we put it in a frame on the wall?”

 

“Whatever you say, princess,” said Daddy.

 

“Pride of place,” said Ray.

 

And then they all went to the zoo.  
…

 

Dammit, dammit, dammit... every time, the same old rigmarole. Fraser could just wake up in the morning, step out of bed, and thirty seconds later emerge from the bathroom, clean shaven, perfectly coiffed, practically gleaming in his uniform. About a minute later there would be a cooked breakfast on the table, coffee in the pot... and here he was trying to get ready for work, and where the hell did he leave his comfy shoes?

 

“Argh!” He tripped over Dief, and Cathy giggled. 

 

“You thought a bad word,” she said, “I can tell.”

 

“I thought a few,” he admitted, then spotted his shoes under the television. “What the … purple pants are they doing there?” He fished them out, and parked himself on the floor, pulled out a sock, sniffed, grimaced, and put it on anyway. “I'm only gonna stink up the car,” he told Cathy, tapping his nose conspiratorially. She tapped her nose back. She was currently snuggling on the sofa, hugging Baby Doll, and sleepily watching Wacky Races. Fraser was in the kitchen, and Ray knew exactly why. Fraser had taken to deliberately absenting himself, so as to avoid the whole ritual of chaos, and not be cross when Ray finally did leave for work. He would be doing something terribly Fraser, like polishing eggs, or sorting the potatoes out according to size. Ray shook his head. Fraser wasn't that bad... “There you go,” Ray grinned, doing up his laces. “See Cathy? Sorted.”

 

Fraser took that moment to reappear in the living room. “Cathy, sweetheart,” he said, gently picking her up, “time for bed now. Kiss Ray bye bye.”

 

Cathy hung on to Baby Doll with one hand, reached up for a hug with the other, and started the bedtime kiss routine. Which was, Inuit kiss (rub noses) Cathy kiss (rub noses on chins) and proper kiss... which was, well, a kiss on the cheek. And then, as every night, “and now you have to kiss the other one, or I'll be lopsided.” 

 

“Sure thing, sweet knees.”

 

“And a kiss for Baby Doll...”

 

Yeah yeah, kiss the dolly... Jeez, he never thought he'd be doing this as an adult man! And finally...

 

“And a kiss for Teddy...” Cathy faltered. “Where's Teddy?”

 

Oh oh...

 

“Is he not on your wheelchair?”

 

“No.” Cathy's lip was beginning to wobble. Ray looked at Fraser anxiously. “Did we leave him in the car?”

 

Fraser did that Zen thing, where he gazed off into his memory, and went for a walk in it. Frase had described it to him a few times, and it seemed Cathy did the same sorta thing sometimes. But it was pretty fucking freaky.

 

“Oh dear...”

 

“What? What oh dear?”

 

“I think... when we went to see the Vecchios after the zoo, we may have left Teddy in their living room...”

 

Cathy's face went even more wobbly, and then she started crying. “I'll, er, don't worry Cath, I'll go get it, okay?” She kept crying, getting louder, and Ray stared at Fraser, helplessly. And, shit, what the hell was Fraser grinning about? Fraser was looking at Cathy proudly, as though she had just taken her first unassisted step... And... oh yeah. He grinned himself as he got it. Cathy was crying. Proper little kid tears, loud, and snothery, and not worried that someone would be angry with her, or hit her, or decide to give her away. 

 

“I... want... my... teddy...”

 

“I'll go get him, sweet knees.”

 

She carried on blubbering, and Fraser hugged her tight, walked up and down, still grinning. 

 

“Oh, greatness...” Ray groaned. Somebody was knocking on the door. If it was one of the neighbours complaining about a kid crying he was gonna kick 'em in the head...

 

“Holy shit...” Ray stood in the door, and stared. It was Vecchio, and he had Cathy's teddy stuffed under his arm. “Jeez, Ray, I could kiss you.”

 

“Well, don't,” the man said, huffily, “I'll only give you cooties.”

 

“You okay?” Vecchio was looking even paler than usual, and had shadows under his eyes.

 

“Yeah, yeah...”

 

“We missed you earlier, Frannie said you had business?”

 

“Nothin' much, just had to see a snitch.” Vecchio pulled a face. “Waste of time, really. Didn't tell me anythin' I didn't already know.”

 

“Yeah, well, still worth it to keep the contact. Who was it?”

 

“Roscoe.”

 

“Oh, yeah... he's usually good for a tip.”

 

“Yeah. Well... I didn't come here to talk about work, just thought Cathy might like this.” He peered through the door and waved at Cathy. “Hey, bambino! You don't gotta cry, here he is.”

 

“Tha... tha... thank you,” she hiccuped. Vecchio grinned, handing Ray the teddy, then whispered, “hey, she's cryin' like a proper baby for once.”

 

“Yeah. Ain't it cool?” Trust Vecchio to notice what was really going on here. It shoulda made him happy but... He wrinkled his brow, concerned. He wasn't sure, but he could swear Vecchio was wheezing. He wracked his brain, trying to think of everything he knew about the aftermath of being shot in the chest. He couldn't remember much, but he did remember that Vecchio had left the hospital too soon the first time. Apparently, while he and Fraser were 'questing' the poor guy ended up right back in hospital, this time for nearly a month. And Stella, God knows why, sat by his bedside, holding his hand... and it shoulda been the love story of the century, but then of course he got better and they had to put up with each other for real.

 

Poor Vecchio. Poor Stella. Jeez, no wonder he was trying to pretend there was nothing wrong.

 

Vecchio was smiling, wanly, raising a hand, in farewell. “I'll see you guys later, just gotta get back home...”

 

“Hey, Vecchio,” Ray broke in on his farewell, concerned. “You know you don't look too good.”

 

“Yeah? Thanks for that Stan, you're no oil painting yourself.” 

 

Ray ignored the Stan jibe. If Vecchio was being deliberately prickly he was definitely hiding something. He put the back of his hand on the man's forehead, then glared at him. “You're running a fever, you idiot. What are you doing out on a cold night like this if you're not well?”

 

“Hey, I'm not that bad. Don't go all mother duck on me.”

 

“Don't go all tough guy macho numbskull on me. Get in here.” He grabbed Vecchio by the arm, and dragged him in. Vecchio winced. “That's it. You stay there. Frase? You come and look at Vecchio for me, I'll put Cathy to bed.” Cathy leaned forward into his arms, and grabbed Teddy gratefully. 

 

“Thank you, Uncle Ray,” she said, through hiccups. 

 

Vecchio smiled at her as though he was about to say something, then started backing off with a look of alarm as Fraser advanced on him.

 

“You know, Ray,” Fraser said, “Ray's right, you really don't look very well.”

 

“Not you too...”

 

Ray nodded. Yeah, Vecchio was in good hands. “Okay, hedgehog,” he said to Cathy. “Time for bed.”

 

She nodded gratefully, and sleepily, mouth full of teddy's ear. She waved at Daddy and Uncle Ray, and was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow. It had been an exhausting day for her, all things considered. She didn't even ask for a story.

 

When Ray got back to the living room Vecchio's coat had found its way to the couch, neatly folded, and Vecchio himself was standing in the middle of the room with a look of resigned irritation on his face. Of all the unlikely things Fraser could be using as a stethoscope, he had decided the cardboard innards of a used toilet roll was suitable. He was standing with his head by Vecchio's chest, ear pressed against the cardboard tube, listening. “Breathe in, Ray.” Vecchio rolled his eyes, and breathed in. Fraser looked worried, and walked behind him, stuck his makeshift stethoscope up to his chest again. “Deep breath...” Vecchio pulled a face, and took a deep breath... or at least Ray assumed it was a deep one from the effort it obviously cost him. Fraser stood up, grabbed Vecchio's coat off the couch, and held it open for him, like an English butler. Vecchio gave him a dirty look, and shrugged himself into it. 

 

“I know that look, Benny, just don't be my Ma, okay? I'm fine.”

 

“I beg to differ,” he said. He looked at Ray, apologetically. “Could you phone for a baby sitter? Frannie can stay here overnight, and if I'm back early I can easily sleep on the couch.”

 

“You taking him up to the hospital?”

 

“No!” Vecchio declared. 

 

“Yes,” Fraser countered. Vecchio scowled, but obviously knew the battle was already lost.

 

“Cool. Well, Vecchio, I'll be a little late getting to my stakeout, but you know how it is, family emergency and all that.”

 

“I hate you, both of you,” Vecchio really was in a bad mood. Ray had flashbacks to Fraser's bad temper when he was ill. Maybe all cops (or ex cops) were rotten patients. He couldn't imagine he'd be pleased in Vecchio's situation. The man continued to grumble. “You're wasting your time. There's nothing wrong with me.”

 

“With all due respect, Ray, none of us are doctors, and I'm sufficiently concerned that I think you should see one.”

 

“I'll see my family doctor tomorrow...”

 

“Tonight.”

 

“Jeez, all right then. I wish I hadn't bought the damned Teddy.” He shook his head. “I was fine when I set out, honestly.”

 

That was probably true, Ray thought. And Vecchio probably wasn't counting on him still being at home, ready and able to drag him through the door. Fraser mighta been too polite, unless Vecchio was obviously dying.

 

“Okay, Frase, you get Ray to the hospital, I'll get Frannie over, and then I'll go to work. See you two tomorrow.”

 

Fraser nodded, and propelled a cantankerous Vecchio out the door.


	22. Funny Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everybody has something to smile about.

By the time Benny got him to the hospital, even Ray had to acknowledge that he wasn't well. He folded his arms and stared out the window, lips pressed into a thin line, and not talking. Benny, thank God, picked up on the hint. On the other hand he kept flicking his eyes sideways, looking anxious, which was nearly as bad as him nagging. Ray closed his eyes, and tried to ignore it all, Benny's stop start nervous driving, the unspoken concern in his silence. 

 

“Ray, we're here.” Benny's voice came as a shock. Ray grunted his acknowledgement, and unfastened his seat belt, stepped out of the car. Irritatingly, he staggered slightly. Benny hurried around to the passenger side, took him by the arm. Ray shook him off, and started walking.

 

He was sick of this place. Seemed like he was here all the time these days, for other people. Last thing he needed was to be here for himself.

 

“Shit.” He stumbled again. This time Benny grabbed hold of him, and didn't let go, sliding one arm around him. Damn, he thought, despite himself leaning on his friend. Benny was up against his left hand side, and was bound to feel the tremor through the fabric. Slight nerve damage, which Ray had never told anyone about. It only played up when he was worn down, couldn't control it.

 

Like now. 

 

Shit, he thought again, catching Benny's anxious glance. For all his efforts, he was shaking on his bad side, and there was Fraser, some kind of genius, probably putting two and two together... last thing he needed was for Fraser to start blaming himself for that as well.

 

“Ray,” Benny was talking to him now. “You sit here, I'll just be a minute.” Ray nodded wearily. Part of him thought of just getting up and walking out, while Benny was busy at reception... but really, it wasn't the wisest course of action. For one thing, he wasn't even sure he could walk unassisted, let alone get up any speed. He leant over his knees, hugged himself with his good arm, and tried to suck in breath. How the hell had this happened? He'd felt okay... well, okayish, when he set off with Cathy's teddy bear. He'd never have brought the damned thing if he knew it was going to lead him here.

 

“Ray?”

 

That was weird. Fraser's voice sounded different... for a silly moment he wondered if his friend was playing Ms Fraser again, then blinked. Jeez, he must be dreaming or something, but he was awake. Not good. He sat up, feeling sweat cooling on his skin. There was a hand, light on his back. Didn't feel like Benny...

 

“Ray?” There was that voice again. Pretty voice, feminine... he turned his head. Despite himself, despite how weary he felt, humiliated to be a nuisance, tired and sick, he smiled. 

 

“Anna,” he said. Jeez, his voice sounded rough. “How you doing?”

 

“I'm fine,” she said, concern clouding her face. “What about you?”

 

“Awh,” he heard himself come out with the false social declaration, “I'm fine.”

 

She glared at him. “Like hell,” she said. “Excuse me, I'll just be a minute...” Ray followed her with his eyes. She was standing up next to Benny at reception, expostulating with the secretary. Benny turned, relieved, and gave him the thumbs up. Ray tried to smile, started coughing instead. By the time he opened his eyes Fraser was sitting next to him, Anna was approaching with a wheelchair. Benny was talking... “most fortunate that Doctor Konev happened by, you won't have to wait to see...”

 

And now Benny was manhandling him into the wheelchair. 

 

“Konev,” Ray smiled at her. “That's your name... cool, now I can beep you sometime...”

 

She looked at him, and smiled.  
...

 

Ray's arm and shoulder were shivering through the layers of fabric... coat, and suit, and shirt. Fraser covertly glanced at Ray's other side. It was only the left arm that was shaking. Oh dear... peripheral nerve damage, he thought, and swallowed. Ray had taken two bullets for him, both on the left hand side. He knew that bullet wounds caused nerve damage... he was aware of it himself in the numbness that sometimes afflicted his leg (thoughts of his back darted through his consciousness and were banished.) Whatever was happening with Ray's breathing was bad enough. But this was the first time he'd really noticed any shaking on his left hand side. Perhaps, normally, Ray was able to control it, or hide it better. Or perhaps it wasn't normally a problem, and it was simply the fact that being ill was exhausting. Fraser bit the inside of his cheek, angry with himself. Ray had been working too hard, for months. He knew it, Ray knew it... both Rays in fact. He had been meaning to broach the subject of Ray's overwork for weeks now, but it had never seemed the right time. They had been so taken up with Cathy's illness, that everything else seemed to go by the wayside.

 

He shook his head, disgusted. He shouldn't have waited so long, shouldn't have let it get to this... 

 

Emergency was pretty much packed. It was late on a Friday night, and the waiting room was crowded, just like holding back at the twenty seventh precinct. Full of drunks, people who had got into fights, or fallen downstairs, as well as the regular influx of patients. Normally Fraser would have succumbed to the urge to be courteous, and make sure that other patients were seen first. Right now, all he wanted was for Ray to be bumped to the front of the line.

 

“Excuse me,” he spoke as politely as he could to the secretary, “my friend is suffering from breathing problems. I think he needs to be seen quite urgently...”

 

“He's on a waiting list. If it gets serious, we'll bump him up, but right now he's okay...”

 

“I don't think you understand. He was a police officer, he sustained his injuries in the line of duty...”

 

“Look, I don't know why you police guys think you deserve special treatment, but he can wait like everyone else.”

 

Fraser sucked in a sharp breath, and straightened. He knew that, technically, she was right, but he wasn't used to her attitude. Okay... calm down. He opened his mouth to try again, when he was interrupted by a feminine voice.

 

“Sally, isn't it? I've just examined the patient you're talking about, and he needs to be put first in line.”

 

“But...”

 

“But I'm the doctor. There's nobody in this waiting room who can't wait another ten minutes, no serious injuries in yet. When they start dragging in the really bad cases, drunken drivers and car crash victims, that's one thing. But right now there's nothing that serious, and Mr Vecchio needs to see a doctor, immediately.”

 

The receptionist pulled a sour face, and lifted the phone. “Okay,” she said, barely containing her resentment. Fraser turned, and smiled, recognising Doctor Konev.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

“I was passing,” she replied, grabbing an unattended hospital wheelchair. “Just as well.”

 

Just as well, thought Fraser, speaking reassuringly as he helped Ray into the seat. His friend was white, and wet. And smiling.

 

“Konev,” Ray said. “That's your name... cool, now I can beep you sometime...”

 

Doctor Konev smiled back, blushed. Oh, thought Fraser, tucking it away for future reference. He would have smiled too, if he hadn't been worried. Ray has an admirer.

 

About time.  
…

 

She knew it was a funny day as soon as she woke up. Dief was still on the bottom of her bed, curled like a fuzzy cushion, only with big blinky eyes, looking at her. She smiled at him and he yipped. Normally he was up, and had been for a run with Daddy. Even if the weather was bad, really really really bad, Daddy would go for a run. And Diefy would grumble, but when he got back he got a nice breakfast, and if Ray was up he'd make his “secret” face, and put his hush finger up, and give Diefy treats. And Daddy would pretend he didn't know. And Dief would hide under the table and look pleased with himself.

 

She listened hard. She didn't think the weather was bad. Well, not bad enough for Daddy not to go for a run. She couldn't hear lots of rain or wind. 

 

Normally she would have called out, “good morning,” but today felt odd. Not like the house was empty, but as though... maybe Daddy had slept in. It felt later than she was used to. It was Saturday, so Daddy should be up, making breakfast, and Ray would be coming home from his stake out work (and she used to think he went to eat steaks with Uncle Ray, but apparently that wasn't it at all). 

 

If it was late in the morning, that must mean that there was something going on. She thought for a moment, then pushed the button so her bed sat up for her. Then, she pushed another button so her bed went down. Carefully, she rolled back her blanket, and slid out of bed, hung onto the railings, and walked sideways to try and get her walker. Dief's ears perked up, and he sprang off the bed, stood, waving his tail at her, and shoved himself in her way.

 

“Dief!” She was cross. “I want to walk!” He looked over his shoulder, wiggled a little, and she raised her eyebrows. “Oh... you want to help me walk?” She could have sworn he nodded. She put her hands on his back, and wobbled two steps along his body, put her arm around his neck. He turned his head, and licked her face. She grinned, and kissed his forehead. He took a step, and she stepped with him. He yipped, and took another step. She stepped too, and felt a smile spreading all over her. Like it wasn't just her face smiling, it was coming up through her toes and in through her fingers. Dief stepped, she stepped too. They were at her bedroom door. She reached up, fiddled with the knob, and tugged. Dief stuck his head through the gap, and swung the door open. He waited till she was steady again, then stepped. She stepped. Step, step, step. She was in the living room now. Over the side of the couch she could see Daddy's feet. He must have fallen asleep... in his boots. Naughty Daddy. He must have been out late last night. She pulled a face, trying to remember what they had been talking about when she went to bed last night. Uncle Ray brought her Teddy, and then... then she was sleepy, and couldn't really remember. 

 

She wobbled a little, bit, and hung onto Dief tighter. Oh dear, she thought, concentrate on what you're doing! Dief obviously agreed. He turned his head, gave her another good licking, then started walking around the couch, cautiously. She moved with him, pausing when he paused, stepping when he stepped. This was exciting. Sometimes Daddy and Ray held her between them, one holding each hand, and let her walk that way for a little, before swinging her, but this was even better, because it felt like she really was walking, by herself.

 

Dief stopped, suddenly, several feet short of the couch, nowhere near an edge she could grab hold of. He barked, and Daddy startled awake, doing that thing where he sprang up, like he was a jack in the box. 

 

“Cathy,” he said, and his eyes widened. “Where's your walker?”

 

“It's in my bedroom, Daddy.”

 

Daddy smiled. “Did Dief help you walk?”

 

“Yes,” Cathy was proud. “He thinks I can really really walk too.” She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did. Dief believed in her. “Where's Ray?”

 

“He's...” Daddy looked at his watch. “He's due home any time... oh, that's him now.”

 

“Good,” Cathy leant over to Dief, whispered in his ear.

 

“Cathy, he's deaf,” Daddy said, reasonably. 

 

“I know,” she said, “but he can hear me.” She brightened as she heard a key in the door. “Here's Ray now,” she said, as he stepped in.

 

“Hey, sweet knees...” Ray was looking bleary and stubbly, as he usually did when coming off a night job. His focus sharpened. “What are you doing in the middle of the room without your walker?”

 

“I've got Diefy. We've got something to show you.”

 

Daddy and Ray both seemed to be holding their breath. Maybe they guessed what she was going to do... She steadied herself as much as she could, then let go of Dief's furry neck. Dief walked off, several steps, then turned to watch her. Cathy looked at her feet, looked at the couch, looked at Daddy's knees. Grinned.

 

Grinned and stepped. One, two, three... she stumbled, and two sets of arms caught her, but she was laughing, and bouncing. “Let me go again! Again!”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Ray said, “she's walking.”

 

Daddy just smiled.

 

Cathy turned, looked up at Ray, grinned, and walked to him.

 

This was going to be a really, really good day.

…

 

Even Ma fussing couldn't dampen Ray's good mood. Even his temperature, and the damned horrible pills he had to take. 

 

Anna, he thought, pretty Anna, clever Anna... wow. She actually liked him. He felt silly, like a schoolboy on his first crush... but that wasn't a bad thing. Okay, so she did the “Ma” bit, got him checked out, told him off for not looking after himself, but then she did something completely unexpected. She'd kissed him, right on the forehead. He could still feel the imprint of her lips on his brow. 

 

He couldn't believe she'd kissed him. He wasn't at his best, after all... sweaty, ugly with pain, shaky... and she'd still kissed him. And when he looked up at her, surprised, she'd smiled, blushed painfully, looked at her feet, and smiled again.

 

And... holy crap, he had a date. Not at the hospital, thank God. He'd shared with her his abiding hatred for hospitals, their food, their coffee, even their smell, and she'd acknowledged that, yes, he had a point. They were meeting at an actual, honest to God, restaurant. 

 

And... she'd asked him out. That kinda thing never happened. Maybe it was just that he was so used to hanging around Benny all the time. Back in the day nobody would look at him twice, because they were too busy looking at Benny all over. And poor Benny would stand there, trying to look completely innocent. And then, when he was Armando, there were plenty of women throwing themselves at him... but he couldn't... well, he just couldn't. Not like that.

 

And then... then there had been Stella. And the mess they both made of each other. He still didn't know exactly what had happened there. Just that... by the time it was done he felt used up, worn out.

 

He'd just assumed that was it. That he'd given up on the dating game, given up looking for anyone, because who would really want a bitter ex cop, when the world was full of younger looking models?

 

Not that he was feeling bitter this morning. Even if Ma was reading him the riot act.

 

“Yeah, yeah Ma, don't worry, I'm fine... yeah, yeah... I know. Jeez. Ma... No, 'Jeez' is not taking the Lord's name in vain... Yeah, yeah... I know.”

 

Yeah, didn't really matter. He couldn't stop grinning.


	23. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aretha sings from the side of the couch, the boys have an argument, the Rays have something in common, and Fraser makes an apology.

Fraser was just finishing the dishes when Ray's cell phone rang. 

 

“Damn!” As Aretha Franklin belted out “Respect” Ray began his usual routine of running around the apartment trying to figure out where the ring tone was coming from. Fraser was torn between a wry grin at the familiarity of the scene, and a sense of frustration. Really, how hard could it be to have a place for everything, and keep everything in its place?

 

“'R, E, S, P, E, C, T... find out what it means to me...'”

 

“Sounds like it's down the side of the couch,” Fraser offered calmly, as he put the cutlery away.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...”

 

Thank goodness Cathy was in bed, Fraser thought, and turned his attention to wiping the counters.

 

“Yeah, hi Mom... er...” Ray's voice dropped, and he started to walk away, mumbling slightly. Fraser raised his eyebrows. It sounded almost as though Ray was trying to keep his side of the conversation away from him. Puzzled, he rinsed his hands, dried them, and stepped through into the living room. Ray was standing with his back to him, hand cupped around the phone, speaking soto voce. There was no getting away from it. Ray was embarrassed about something. Something to do with his mother, something he wanted to keep from Fraser.

 

“Yeah, Mom, er... yeah. I'll... we'll see you and Dad then.” He flicked his phone shut, and turned to Fraser with a hunted expression on his face.

 

“Ray?”

 

“Yeah, Frase... er. That was Mom.”

 

“Yes. I gathered as much. I take it that she and your father have returned from their cruise?”

 

“Yeah... They're, er, they're coming to see us tomorrow. Sixish...”

 

“There seemed to be a problem?”

 

“Er... no, not a problem.”

 

Fraser sighed. He understood that Ray was anxious about meeting his parents for the first time in... good Lord, two years? More even. Ray hadn't seen his parents since before the 'quest', since before he and Fraser had announced their relationship to the world. When he and Ray were first an item they were living above the Arctic tree line, in the “frozen ass of the universe”, as Ray uncharitably described it at the time. Ray had reassured himself, initially, that his parents' reluctance to visit was due to the extreme distance. When, finally, he and Ray had come back South to meet Cathy, the Kowalskis were already a month into a cruise... one for which Ray's father had been secretly saving. Fraser smiled. He didn't particularly know the man, but it seemed Ray's father had a romantic streak. Perhaps that was who Ray got it from. Barbara had always wanted to see the world, and her husband, in an effort to rekindle their romance, had been secretly saving, for some time, in order to surprise her.

 

Over the last six months there had been postcards, from all over the world, signed by both parents, interspersed with sporadic phone calls, all from Ray's Mom. Fraser wondered, looking at Ray's anxious face, if his father's silence on the phone was a sign of disapproval. Perhaps... or perhaps the man was simply not good on the phone. He reminded himself that Ray's father was an unknown quantity, and as such, speculation as to the man's motives was fruitless.

 

Ray hadn't said much about it over the months, but it was obvious that he was worried his parents wouldn't approve of him and Fraser... perhaps by extension Cathy. Fraser hoped... yes, hope was the right word... he hoped that Ray's insecurities would prove unfounded. After all, his parents had kept in touch. But if they were back in Chicago then the big 'meeting' could no longer be avoided, by either side. 

 

No wonder Ray was anxious. Fraser frowned. That was all old news. There was no need to hide that insecurity from him though. 

 

“Ray,” he said gently, “it will be better than you think. I'm sure they'll love Cathy.”

 

Ray twitched, but didn't say anything. Fraser felt himself go cold. “What... did they say something about her?” 

 

“No... it's nothing like that...”

 

“What is it then?” 

 

Ray closed his eyes, and cursed again. “I've fucked up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Fraser, I'm really sorry...”

 

“What?” He could feel his muscles clenching. 

 

“You know I said I'd told my Mom...”

 

“You mean about us?”

 

“No... yeah, fuck, she knows about us...”

 

“What then?” He stared at Ray's pale face, and suddenly realised. It felt like he'd been punched in the chest. “You... you didn't tell her about Cathy?”

 

“Oh, shit... Frase...” Ray stepped toward him, arms expanding into one half of a hug. “I really meant to, I even tried to... it was just...”

 

Fraser stepped back from Ray's embrace, hugged himself instead. Walked all the way backward until he hit the wall. He felt sick. “It was just what? You thought she was... what? Not important enough?”

 

“No, Jeez... Frase, it's not that.” Ray's voice was colouring with anger now, though he was obviously trying to control it. “You know it's not that. I just didn't want to... you know, I didn't want to do it wrong. And... I didn't want to spoil their big trip...”

 

“Cathy would spoil their holiday, is that what you thought?”

 

“No... no... I just didn't know what they'd do. He's been saving up for this for years, knocked himself out for it. It's like their once in a lifetime adventure. If I told them, they'd either freak out, or they'd be on the next plane home. She wanted, you know, to see the pyramids, all that shit...”

 

“And that was more important than Cathy?”

 

Ray was definitely angry by now. “Don't pull that guilt shit on me. I wanted to tell them right, that's all, face to face. They weren't even on the same contour, conti... continent. Fuck's sake, even you should understand this. It's not the kind of thing you can just tell someone, not on the phone.”

 

Fraser turned his face away, not wanting to meet Ray's intense gaze. Part of him understood where Ray was coming from... another part...

 

It was unreasonable, but his heart hurt. “When were you going to tell them?”

 

“When they got back. I just... thought I had more time.” 

 

“You've had months.”

 

“For God's sake,” Ray growled. “Even you should understand this.”

 

“Even me?” Fraser's voice dropped, dangerously quiet. All their arguments were conducted quietly these days. “That's the second time you've said that. What does that mean, even me?”

 

“It means,” Ray hissed, “you've no idea how to cope with people, how other people might feel. They're old, for fuck's sake.”

 

“So now I'm insensitive?”

 

“You're too damned sensitive, that's what it is.”

 

“And you're deflecting.” Fraser blinked hard, hands tucked under his armpits, and squeezed his chest. “You're trying to make it about me, and you're the one,” he dropped his voice further, so that there was absolutely no chance of Cathy overhearing, “you're the one who's ashamed of her.”

 

Ray stood frozen, hands clenching and unclenching. When he did speak, it was cold. “I'm not ashamed of her. I'm ashamed of you,” he grimaced painfully. “Jerking me around, making me feel like shit because I want to do this thing right. You don't know what it's like to have parents...”

 

Fraser felt his head snap to one side, as though he'd been punched.

 

“Jeez...” Ray suddenly sounded frightened. “I didn't mean that...” Fraser turned, started toward the door. Ray put on speed, blocked his way and ran backward down the hall. “Don't you, don't you, don't you fucking dare.”

 

“Get out of my way.”

 

“Look, fuck it, you don't keep doing this.” Fraser pushed, grabbed the door handle, tried to get past him. Ray put his arms out on either side, bracing himself in the door frame. Fraser shoved, came up against the wall of Ray's chest. “Every time, every damned time it gets too hard for you, you just run out the door. Well, I'm not letting you. Don't run.”

 

Fight or flight, Fraser thought, distantly. I'm afraid to fight, I'm afraid we'll break something, do something irreparable, so I run...

 

Was that what his father did? Oh God... Fraser stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, tried to calm down. Ray's voice continued, gentler now. “I'm really sorry, Frase, I shoulda told you. Shoulda tried to explain it... you know I love Cathy. I just wanted to do this properly. My Mom, she was... you know, she was phoning from... Egypt, or France, over the moon with it all, and she had what, five minutes call time... I couldn't. I couldn't tell her, not like that.”

 

With a groan, Fraser let out some of the tension. He was being unreasonable, he told himself. He knew it in his head, but... 

 

“Fine,” he said, chilled at his own cold voice. “We'll tell them tomorrow. If you're sure there's no other excuse.”

 

“Jeez, Fraser...” Ray's breath shuddered. “I fucked up, I know.”

 

“How? How did you fuck up? Can you explain that to me?”

 

“By... by not explaining it to you. Not telling you before now.”

 

Fraser sighed, still hugging himself, then dipped forward, touched his forehead to Ray's. “Okay,” he conceded, squeezing his eyes shut. “And... I messed up too. I shouldn't make it so difficult for you to explain things. I'm sorry if I seem... unreasonable at times.”

 

“You're not unreasonable,” Ray's voice was shaky with relief. “You're too damned reasonable is the problem. You think everyone else should be as reasonable as you. But we're only human.”

 

“And I'm not?” His voice was a whisper, the question, foolish as he knew it to be, utterly sincere.

 

“Hey, Frase, look at me.”

 

Reluctantly Fraser opened his eyes, drew himself back slightly and looked. 

 

Oh Lord. Ray's eyes were beautiful. Full of love, and compassion. 

 

“Did I ever say you weren't human? You know I love you? You know I love Cathy?”

 

“Yes. I know that.”

 

“So, stop freaking out.”

 

“I'll try.”

 

Ray stepped forward for a kiss, but Fraser turned his face. He wasn't about to run out the door any more, but he wasn't yet able to let it go. He brought his knuckles to his face, scrubbed hard.

 

“I'm going to bed, Ray. I'll see you there when you get back from work.”

 

It was early to go to bed, but it gave him a little escape. He could tuck himself away, keep his eyes shut, pretend to be asleep. 

 

Although he knew already that he wouldn't sleep tonight.

 

Let it go, let it go, he told himself.

 

Damn. He couldn't let it go.

…

 

Vecchio was humming. Despite himself, Ray felt the tickle of a smile. If his friend was a cartoon cat, there would be canary feathers sticking out the corner of his mouth.

 

“Date went well?”

 

“Yeah,” Vecchio settled into the passenger seat, “I mean, you know, early days and everything, but...” He gave a very Italian, very expressive shrug. “What can I say? She's lovely.”

 

“Cool,” Ray was pleased. “You deserve it.”

 

There was a lull in the conversation as Vecchio sorted out the surveillance equipment. Ray sighed. “You know, sometimes it feels... I dunno, kinda sordid, to be snooping on people like this.”

 

“You mean cheaters?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah... I know.” Ray stared off at the hotel they were staking out. “They deserve what they're getting. But... you just never know, do you? What drove 'em to it. Maybe it's just a one time thing, maybe they're just really damned lonely. Maybe the guy who hired us is an abusive bastard. You just don't know?”

 

Vecchio was looking at him closely. “You all right, Kowalski?” Oh, shit, the guy's a detective, Ray reminded himself. He's gonna know something's up.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just feeling a little... what's the word...”

 

“I don't know. What is the word?”

 

“Er, not morbid. Meli, melencholy.” He laughed. “That's a Fraser word for sad.”

 

“Oh, Jeez, Ray.” Vecchio shook his head. “You guys have a fight?”

 

No getting anything past this guy. It was almost funny, how easily Vecchio cut through the bull. “Yeah, okay,” he admitted. “But not like, you know, serious. I mean, it was pretty bad, but we're not breaking up or anything. I'm just feeling... you know, a little bit down on myself.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Well, you know my Mom and Dad, they've been away on their world tour thing.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Well, they're just back in Chicago, and they're coming to see us tomorrow...” Ray checked his watch. Jeez, past one in the blessed A.M. “Today, actually. And... well, Fraser's upset, because it's been months now, and they haven't... well, I haven't...” He shut his eyes. “Jeez, I suck sometimes. I didn't tell them about Cathy yet.”

 

“Yeah?” Vecchio was carefully casual. “Well, what did he expect? You were gonna wait till they were on top of the Eiffel Tower, and just drop it on 'em?”

 

Ray felt his eyes widen with surprise. “What... wait. You think I did the right thing?”

 

Vecchio turned on his seat, cocked his head like a sparrow. Jeez, the guy was alert. “What, and you don't? You know your Mom and Dad. If you didn't tell 'em yet, you had a reason. So, don't sweat it. Don't get down on yourself.”

 

“Yeah, but... Fraser seemed to think... like he thought I was ashamed of Cathy or something...”

 

Vecchio let out a noise somewhere between a bark of laughter, and grunt of anger. “Typical Benny. When he gets frightened he goes into super rational Mountie mode. Jeez... Mr 'there's not a thing in these woods I can't touch, smell, blah blah blah.'”

 

“What? Er... what are you talking about?”

 

“Hey, Kowalski, you know I love Benny like a brother. Better than a brother, cause I get to choose him. But oh... my... God.” He rolled his eyes. “Could I tell you some stories.”

 

Ray bit his tongue. He wanted to ask Vecchio to explain, but it would only make him feel like he was betraying Fraser. Vecchio looked at him, sympathetically, shook his head, carried on talking anyway.

 

“Jeez... can't believe he's still pulling this shit after all these years.”

 

Ray couldn't help himself. “What shit?”

 

“Look, you know that story Cathy loves about the bank vault?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know Benny nearly got us killed. He broke that damned sprinkler, figured out by the time the vault filled with water the bad guys would be ready to blow the door open. Worked out all the math, how long it would take to drill the holes, blah blah blah... never figured the bad guys mightn't be working to his timetable. Never figured something else might be going on the other side of the door. We were lucky, damned lucky, not to drown.”

 

“Jeez... I never thought of that.” Figured though... Fraser had pulled that kind of stunt on him enough times.

 

“No. Neither did he.” Vecchio smiled. “And you know, I love that about him. He's so sure, figures out how the world works, or how it should work... but he's not always right, you know.”

 

Ray sat silently, let that sink in.

 

“I... yeah. I suppose, I kinda thought...” He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. Vecchio smiled. 

 

“You thought it was your fault.”

 

“Yeah.” Vecchio had a point. It wasn't always his fault. But... Ray closed his eyes. “Yeah, but... I did say some stuff...” He winced, “Jeez, Ray, you're gonna think I'm a shit for this. I said something about his parents, how he didn't know what it was like to have parents...”

 

He felt a pat on the back of his hand, and opened his eyes, surprised. Vecchio was looking out the window, surveying the hotel, as though nothing weird was going on, like they weren't having a heart to heart. Ray winced. Should be paying attention to the damned job himself... He shuffled in his seat, and straightened his glasses on his nose. Vecchio kept talking, calmly. “Well, yeah. I wasn't there. Maybe you said some things, maybe he said some things. I know how arguments go. And you'll both feel bad about it. But... it's not the end of the world.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Hey, Kowalski...” Vecchio flicked a glance at him, smiled. “Ray. You know you guys are tight, don't you? He loves you. You love him. This other shit? Give it a coupla days. It'll blow over.”

 

Ray nodded, swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I'll trust you on that then.”

 

“Yeah. You do that. I know Benny. He gets a bee in his bonnet, but he'll sort his head out. He always does.”  
…

 

He hadn't shut the curtains. The pale wash of the street lights streaked the walls, and Fraser felt very, very foolish. 

 

In the next room, Cathy was talking in her sleep. Not sad talk. It hadn't been sad talk in a while. Just happy baby talk. Diefy this, Fifi that, 'wanna swim' stuff. Sometimes she sang, the odd little phrase, and laughed. Did all children do that, he wondered, sing in their sleep? Or was it just his child? He knew nothing about himself as a child. Not really. Mainly, he remembered that he had read a great deal. He tried to remember himself at Cathy's age, but it felt like it was behind a wall... or perhaps, more properly, a sheet of glass. He could picture his mother, finally able to access her image, after all these years. Could remember her playing with him in the snow, remember her hands resting over his as they kneaded bread together. Remembered her singing. 

 

Beautiful voice. She had such a beautiful voice. 

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and covered his face. 'You don't know what it's like to have parents...' Ray hadn't meant that. Not the way it sounded. He knew that. And...

 

Ray was right. He didn't really know what it was like to have parents. Not like the Kowalskis. Not parents who raised you, made you eat your vegetables, pretended to believe you when you said you were doing 'homework' with your girlfriend. 

 

Ray's parents, after all, had bought him toys for Christmas. His father had taught him how to strip an engine. Fraser's father had taught him more through his absences than he ever had with his presence.

 

So... Ray was probably right when he decided to wait, to tell his parents face to face that they had become grandparents. Ray knew his own mum and dad, after all. And Fraser... Fraser had no right to throw a tantrum. Thinking about it now, he couldn't even understand why he had lost his temper so badly.

 

Frightened, he realised, surprised. He was frightened... of something. Meeting the Kowalskis properly, perhaps. Withstanding their scrutiny. He wondered, had Stella felt like this? Was he reacting, perhaps, like a teenage girl?

 

Good Lord. One thing was certain. He hadn't reacted like a sensible, adult man.

 

He could hear Ray in the kitchen. He must have just got in. He was stumble footing it around the apartment, obviously exhausted. Trying to be quiet, but just too tired or wired to see straight.

 

Damn it, he thought, and got out of bed. He wasn't even fooling himself that he was asleep, and Ray wasn't an idiot. Tentatively, he made his way to the kitchen. Ray was standing at the counter, eating potato chips, and dropping crumbs on the floor. He had his back to the door, hadn't seen him yet.

 

“Ray.”

 

“Shit.” Ray jumped, more crumbs falling down his front. “Shit, I've made a mess... hang on...”

 

“Leave it.” He stepped up to Ray, put his hand on his chest. “Is that... is that what I do to you? Make you feel like you're always having to clean up for me?”

 

Ray flushed, looked away.

 

“I do, don't I? I put unreasonable expectations on you, on everyone. I realise... I realise that they are your parents, that it's your right, your... responsibility to look after them as best you can. To introduce them to our... to your daughter in the best way you see fit. You know them, after all. To me, they're barely voices on a phone. I was... I was out of order.”

 

Ray let out a sound that was nearly, but not quite, a laugh. “Is that an apology?”

 

Fraser felt the back of his neck prickle, his ears go hot. “Yes,” he said, ashamed by the difficulty with which he spoke. “Yes, it's an apology.”

 

Ray smiled at him, and wound his arms round his waist. “Good,” he said. “Because I'm sorry too.”

 

“Don't...” Don't what? What was he trying to say? “Just...” 

 

“What?”

 

“There is nothing for which you have to apologise.”

 

Ray sighed. “You neither. It's just one of those things. Come here.” He slid his fingers through the hair on the back of Fraser's head, stroked gently, up and down the nape of his neck. Shudders ran from his finger tips. Fraser felt them vibrating all the way through to his toes. Ray carried on talking, gently. “Sometimes we can both be jerks. It's okay.”

 

“You know... you do know that I love you? Even... even when I'm being a jerk?”

 

“'Course I do.” Ray's voice was warm, and his mouth closed in for a kiss. “Come here,” he mumbled against his lips.

 

And oh, thank God. 

 

Fraser might not always know what he was thinking, might not always find the words, but Ray had a language all of his own.

 

Things would be well, Fraser told himself, as his mouth opened, admitting tongue, and warmth, and touch. Ray moved in his arms, and he moved with him. All manner of things would be well.


	24. A Kowalski Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy meets her grandparents for the first time, everyone gets squished, RayV slums it, and RayK is Steve McQueen.

Cathy was sitting on the couch, lining up all her dolls and stuffed toys next to her, so they would be ready to say hello when her Granny and Grandad got there. Baby Doll came first, next to Teddy, and then there was Bunny, and then there was Othlo the Octopus (even though one of his legs was missing, so he only had seven.) And Othlo had to sit next to Mr Fishy, of course, and then... She was so excited that she didn't really notice at first that Daddy and Ray were acting funny. She was too busy chattering to her toys. Raggy Peg was being naughty, trying to steal the green riv from Teddy, so Cathy folded her arms at her, cocked her eyebrows, and took a deep breath, like Nonna Vecchio. In the moment of silence before she started telling her dolly off, she heard the voices in the kitchen. Daddy and Ray were doing the 'talk really really quiet' thing, where they thought she didn't hear them. 

 

Oh dear... 

 

She slid off the couch, and wobbled toward the kitchen door. Diefy came up beside her, and gratefully she hung onto his ruff. She was walking better every day, but it was still nice when Dief came to help her. He turned his head and licked her face. She kissed him back.

 

“Ray, Ray, Ray,” Daddy was saying, “it will be all right. I'm sorry I panicked yesterday, I'm sure everything will be all right.”

 

“Yeah, but... I haven't really talked to them since we got together. You know, what if it's weird? You know, they're old fashioned. They might be freaked out, you know, two guys living together, raising a kid...”

 

“They might, they might not. But you've told them the situation now. They didn't say anything untoward, did they?”

 

“Untowhaty now?”

 

“What I mean to say is... they didn't say anything against us?”

 

“I don't know. I mean, they sounded a bit, what... sorta stunned. And, I was just getting to know my Dad again, and...”

 

“Don't Granny and Grandad like me,” Cathy asked in a little voice.

 

Daddy froze in place, like the White Witch had touched him, and turned him into stone, but Aslan hadn't arrived yet. Ray swivelled on his heel, looked at her open mouthed, groaned, and dropped to his knees.

 

“Come here, Cathy.” She stepped into his hug, and rested her head on his shoulder. “They're gonna love you,” he promised, hand petting her back. “Your Dad and I are just...”

 

“Just what?”

 

“Unhinged,” Daddy said, moving again, and trying to make a joke. He gave her one of those really clever smiles that fooled other people, sometimes even himself, but never fooled her. “We're utterly unhinged, that's all. We're worrying about nothing.”

 

“You're worrying about something.” She stuck her lower lip out, and glared. “I'm a child, not D U M dumb.” She knew she was spelling it wrong, but it was a Ray joke, and it might make Daddy smile for real.

 

No. Daddy was still wearing his mask smile.

 

Ray was doing better though. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't pretending. He wasn't as good at fibbing with his face as Daddy anyway. He looked at her very seriously. “It's hard to explain, hedgehog,” he said. “Some people... well, they don't like it when two guys live together like your Daddy and I do.”

 

“You're not 'guys,'” Cathy said, puzzled. “You're Ray and Daddy.”

 

“You hear that, Frase?” Ray's face twitched a grin. “We're not guys.”

 

“What Ray means,” Daddy said, then paused, looking puzzled. He folded his arms across his chest, and started again. “What he's trying to say is...” His voice trailed off into silence, and his face became rather alarmed.

 

“What? Daddy, what's wrong?”

 

“Oh, good Lord.” He sat down next to her and Ray, and looked at her apologetically. “Do you know, sweetheart,” and his face wasn't pretend any more, “I don't have a clue what I'm trying to say...”

 

Ray laughed. “Hey, that's my trick...”

 

“Don't put yourself down, Ray.”

 

“Come here, sweet knees,” Ray turned his attention back to her, and settled her onto his lap. “What your Daddy is trying to say is, some people can have prejudged, pre jist... er... prejudices about other people. A prejudice is, er...”

 

“'An unreasonable... 'aver shun' or opinion formed... uhm, not based on facts.'”

 

“Mrs Dictionary Head.” Ray squeezed her into a quick hug, and exchanged proud glances with Fraser. “See? She's our clever Cathy...” 

 

“Like some people are preddy juiced against me, because I walk funny.”

 

“Hey, you walk just fine.”

 

“I walk like a duck. My bum waggles.”

 

“Yeah? Well, better to walk like a duck than have a bird brain. Who's been prejudiced against you?”

 

“Oh, sometimes you hear people in the park.” Cathy snorted, dismissively. “Jerks.”

 

“Cathy!” Daddy's voice went really high, and so did his eyebrows. Cathy blushed, and bit her lip. 

 

“Sorry, Daddy.” 

 

Daddy had his fingers to his mouth, looked like he had eaten the last bit of chocolate and was trying to hide the smudge... Oh dear. She blinked, nervously. Daddy's eyes were twinkling. He was making funny noises behind his hand. She looked up at Ray, and he was grinning from ear to ear. It was a bit like when Daddy talked funny languages at the Consulate, and she didn't know what he was saying, like Ray and he had a secret way of talking. Then, she realised what the noise was that Daddy was making. He was laughing.

 

Oh. Greatness. And now he had a proper smile. “Come here, Princess, give me a kiss.”

 

She reached out, grabbed his ears, and planted a kiss on his chin. Dief shoved his way in, and started licking everybody, wagging his tail so hard that his bum bum shook. Bits of wolfy hair floated in the air, and she sneezed.

 

“Diefenbaker, now is not the time,” Daddy said, still laughing. 

 

“Hey, Frase,” Ray was chuckling too. “It's always the time for a Diefy kiss.”

 

“Understood...”

 

Dief turned his head, and whined, just as a knock came to the door. Everyone stopped laughing, and Ray went pale. 

 

“Er... show time, Frase,” he said. He shoved himself up off the floor and shook himself off, like Diefy coming in out of the rain. Daddy stood, lifting her onto his shoulder. 

 

“Well... we should answer the door.”

 

Ray nodded, put his arm around Daddy and her, and together they walked to the door. 

 

“Here goes,” he said, put on his best game smile, (still not as good as Daddy's) and swung the door open. “Mom! Dad!”

 

“Mr and Mrs Kowals...”

 

“Oh, God, Damien, look, it's really really true. Look at you, oh... Cathy.” A kind faced woman was staring at her with intense eyes, like Ray's. “Damien,” she whispered, “we have a granddaughter.”

 

Daddy's body relaxed, Ray's smile got real, and her Granny stepped up and kissed her. Automatically she put her arms out, and Daddy gently passed her across. She found herself nestling on a bosom, with her head against her Granny's hair. Granny was shaking, like she was crying, but that couldn't be right, because she seemed really happy. Why was it, she wondered, that she'd seen Ray so happy he'd cried, and now his mother was doing it too? Maybe it was a Kowalski thing... She stroked her Granny's hair.

 

Looking over her shoulder she saw a man, shorter than Ray, rounder faced, but obviously his Daddy. Ray was all skinny gingle gangle, and his parents were plump and comfortable, but there was something about this man, nice and Ray-like... Granddad... He stared at her, blinked, dipped his head, stepped in behind his wife. 

 

“Son, Benton...” His voice went sort of hiccuppy. “Cathy.” Then he smiled too, sweet, and sort of shy. 

 

“Granddad,” she said.

 

And, ooh. It was really really nice. It was like a Vecchio family hug, only without a hundred children and all the elbows. Daddy looked really surprised and went 'oof', Ray looked happy happy, smiley smile, Diefy went bananas, jumping up and down, and everyone got squished in the doorway.  
…

 

“I don't know how Ma did this,” Frannie grumbled, leaning on the shopping trolley for support, one hand on the small of her back. “More than once, I mean. It's not like she didn't know better after Maria. I can't get comfortable.”

 

Anna smiled, sympathetically. “Well, I've never done it myself, but as a doctor, I'm inclined to agree.”

 

“Oh, God, you're going to tell me stories about women who were just walking down the road one day, and their bellies exploded or something...”

 

“No,” Anna looked at her curiously. “Why? Are you?”

 

“Nah,” Frannie laughed, winced, and straightened. Her back still ached, but the baby had shifted, thank the Lord and all his holy saints, so he wasn't kicking her in the bladder any more. For a moment she'd thought she was gonna wet herself. “I just shouldn't watch horror movies in my condition.”

 

Anna smiled, and put her hand on the small of Frannie's back, rubbed. “I think we should sit down, have a cup of tea.”

 

“Tea? You been hanging out with Fraser? I mean, me... I've got an excuse to drink that herby stuff. What's yours?”

 

“Well, I like tea...”

 

“Okay, tea it is.”

 

Tea was... well, it was as awkward and embarrassing as every conversation Frannie had ever had when she was trying to impress one of Ray's friends. She tried, she really did, not to make a fool of herself, but... Jeez. It was like a disease or something. She'd promised herself she'd not do this, but... here she was doing it again. That thing where she opened her mouth and just blurted everything out like she had a diorama of the mouth, or whatever it was called. Normally when she did that the person she was talking to would shut down and blank her, or even worse look like they were sniggering behind their hands. Anna did neither of those things. She didn't just smile and nod in the right places, like she was a really good actress remembering her cues, she actually asked questions, remembered what had been said, and looked... wow. Interested.

 

Frannie started to relax. Anna was not Stella, or a hundred other people who'd been there for the 'kid sister puts foot in mouth' routine. God... Frannie still blushed when she remembered her last attempt at a 'sisterly' chat with one of Ray's girlfriends. Stella had wanted to buy him a present, and... Jeez. It hadn't worked out well. 

 

Oh, shit... she blushed. Just when she was starting to feel comfortable about herself, she realised what she'd just been saying. She'd done it again. Anna had reassured her that she wanted to know “everything” about Ray, and big mouthed Frannie took her at her word. What the hell had she been saying? Oh, God, no... she'd told her about Pop, Zuko, Irene... Guy Rankin even. (Though thank God she didn't get to the bit with his corpse being wheeled around the station in a wheelchair.) Jeez, she'd even started in about Ray going undercover with the mob. She looked at Anna, and felt her mouth dry up. Too damned late. She'd probably said far more than she should... Ray was gonna kill her.

 

“So,” Anna said, smiling fondly. “Your brother's a hero then.”

 

Oh, thank you Lord God, she hadn't put her off him... yet.

 

“Yeah, yeah. He was always, you know, brave. There was this one time when we were kids when Pop...” shut up Frannie! Nobody needs to know this stuff... “er, when... I mean, I don't remember.” With a huge effort she managed to shut the hell up. Quickly, to stop herself from saying anything else, she stuffed her mouth with cake, and hid behind a mug of that chamomiley honey stuff.

 

Anna sighed. “I'm sorry, Frannie.”

 

“Uffle whirly blig um.” It was a big bit of cake, and now she was making a fool of herself in a whole new way, mumbling like an idiot and dropping crumbs down her front. She swallowed her food, then gulped down tea, to loosen the blockage in her craw. Shit, she looked down at herself. She was still alarmed by just how big her bazoombas were these days. Without thinking she started picking cake out of her cleavage... then she heard the conversation at the next table stop. She glanced across, and saw two men, so like each other they were probably brothers, staring at her, slack jawed. When they caught her looking at them their faces sent sly. Bastards! They were definitely leering at her. And it wasn't like they didn't know she was pregnant. She looked like she'd swallowed a whale.

 

“What? You never seen breasts before?” Inside she was cringing, but it was too late. Ray was never, ever going to forgive her.

 

One of the men leaned forward, from the look on his face about to make a suggestive comment, when Anna turned, casually, and smiled at him. “Don't worry,” she said, “I'll not tell anyone if you don't.”

 

The man paused, looking flummoxed. “Don't tell anyone what?”

 

“That you're inexperienced. I can see why my friend would attract your notice. After all, you've obviously been deprived of female attention. But it's not too late. There is help for men like you.”

 

The man gawped. “Are you saying I'm...”

 

“Listen,” Anna's voice radiated sincerity. “I'm a doctor, and I can recommend a good psychiatrist who specialises in sexual dysfunction. Perhaps your friend here could make an appointment too?”

 

The man blushed, glared at his brother, then shoved back his chair. “We'd finished here anyway,” he muttered. “Come on, Kevin, we don't need this shit.”

 

Frannie stared as the two men made their getaway.

 

“It's not too late,” Anna called after them. “Get help!”

 

“Oh... Jeez,” Frannie put her hand up to her heart, started laughing. “I don't believe you did that!”

 

“Well, to be fair, it was either that, or hit them. And it wouldn't help my career, or my chances with your brother if I got arrested.”

 

“I think my brother woulda loved that. Hey, you sure you're not a Vecchio?”

 

“Well, unless the Veccchios made their way to America via Russia, no...”

 

“Ma's gonna love you.”

 

Anna smiled, suddenly looking nervous. “She'd better.”  
…

 

“Hey, Vecchio,” Ray rolled into the bar, swinging from the hips, feeling amused. What the hell was his friend wearing?

 

“Hey, Kowalski.” Vecchio was sitting in a corner, near the back, dressed in... oh yeah. For real. Jeans and a teeshirt, and a scruffy leather jacket.

 

“Not used to you slumming it. You know, you're not looking your normal, er, dapper dan self.”

 

“Yeah? Well, you look your usual grungy punk self.” 

 

“Yeah?” Ray stuck his hands in his pockets and smirked. “Well, on me it looks good. On you... it's just freaky.” It actually didn't look bad at all, but he couldn't resist teasing.

 

“Huh.” Vecchio wasn't rising to the bait. He glared balefully at a bottle of mineral water. “I wish the snitches didn't all wanna meet up in places like this. Or I could just get tap water. I mean, look at this crap... what kinda world is it where the water costs more than the beer?”

 

“What's the case anyway? This isn't one of the divorce cases, is it?”

 

“Nah, this one's more interesting.” Vecchio straightened up, and looked a bit more cheerful. “Corporate thing. The head office is thinking industrial espionage, but there's not enough to get the police involved.”

 

“Yeah? So, what you got?”

 

“Pull up a pew.”

 

“Pull up a what?”

 

“Sit your ass down.”

 

“Oh, right...” Ray dropped into his seat, and sighed. “Jeez, I hate these places.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, no.” He shook his head. True confessions time. “To be honest, er... I like 'em too much. Just, I walk in here, and the smell hits me, and I think... hey, one beer won't kill me.”

 

“Well, it won't, will it?”

 

“Maybe. Dunno. Thing is, I dunno if I'd stop at one.”

 

“Oh.” Vecchio cleared his throat. “Well, I don't got that problem, but I know it happens to a lotta cops.”

 

Ray blushed. He'd just surprised himself, and felt pretty damned vulnerable about it. He'd done the right thing telling Vecchio though. He'd been meaning to do it for a while. The more people knew about it, the less likely he was to let himself slip. “Yeah,” he said, still embarrassed. “I mean, what with being a Dad now, I don't wanna risk it.”

 

“Good man,” Vecchio said, and smiled. “You want overpriced water, or overpriced cola?”

 

“Cola, thanks.”

 

Vecchio lifted his hand, and signalled the bar man. “Cola,” he shouted, “and nuts.”

 

“Nuts?”

 

“Yeah, nuts. Anna keeps on at me to eat little snacks in the day, keep my strength up.”

 

“She looking after you?”

 

“Trying. She's having some kinda fit right now, worried about meeting Ma. Never seen her panic before.” He paused, glanced at Ray, and smiled. “You're in a good mood, Kowalski. So, I take it things went okay with your Mum and Dad?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, they surprised me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, Mum not so much. She's always been on my side, even when I was being an idiot. But I thought Dad would be, you know, weirded out.”

 

“And he wasn't?”

 

“Hey, he weirded me out! I thought he was gonna be all old school, call us faggots or somethin'... which, you know, I shoulda known better, cause he never said that kinda thing before. But he was like...” Ray paused, and rubbed his bristles, grinning. “You know, when I was a kid, he was my best friend. I mean, really, really my best friend in the whole wide world. I just, worshipped the ground he walked on. But then... well, he hated it when I was a cop. Didn't talk to me for years. Felt like someone chopped off my arm. And... you know, we did make it up again, but it was a bit... odd for a while. Like we couldn't figure out how to fix it, even though we were both trying. And yesterday...” He pinched his nose, and blinked. “Yesterday we were best buds again. Just like that. And he was so damned proud of Cathy.” 

 

“Awh, Ray...” Vecchio's voice was wistful. “I'm really glad.”

 

“I mean, there I was, thinking he was gonna be a homophobic bastard, got me and Fraser as nervous as... I dunno, a sack full of cats, and he was just... he was just my Dad.”

 

“That's why you're such a good Dad,” Vecchio said. “You know, why you can walk in here and ignore the beer. My father never met a drink he didn't like.” He glanced away, with a look of shame. “And everything I ever did disappointed him.”

 

“That can't be true. You know, I'm sure there were things he woulda wanted to do different if he coulda had a second chance.”

 

“Nah. Even when the old bastard died he never shut up about what a failure I was.”

 

Urgh. Ray felt cold fingers creeping up his back. What did you say to that kinda thing? There was a break in conversation as the bartender delivered his drink and Vecchio's peanuts. “Er... sorry to hear that,” he said, fiddling with his glass.

 

“S'alright. The old fucker's not around any more.”

 

Okay... Ray had got used to the idea of ghosts, but he still wasn't exactly comfortable with it. “Er, can I have a look at the file, while we're waiting for our snitch?”

 

“Yeah... knock yourself out. Like I say, it's more interesting than divorce crap. Pays well, and if it works out then we might get recommended, you know, for more corporate stuff. Go up in the world a bit.”

 

“Uh huh...” Ray looked at the file, and smiled approvingly. “Yeah, it's a step up from our usual.”

 

“Okay... gimme the file.” Vecchio slid the manilla folder into a gym bag. Jeez, when he went scruffy, he went all the way. “Here's our snitch,” he said, and grinned. “Be Steve McQueen.”

 

Ray leant back on his chair, stuck his legs out, crossed at the ankles, gave an indolent stretch. “Ain't I always?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought (and Tiff agreed with me) that it would be nice in a fanfic for Ray's father not to be automatically portrayed as a bigotted jerk. I know plenty of old Catholic working class men of his generation who aren't homophobes. I know plenty who are, but I preferred to think of Damien Kowalski as my mother's Dad, rather than my father's. A nice, quiet, shy sweet guy, who worked his guts out, and loves his family, no matter what. (His brother in law, my Mum's uncle, was gay, at a time when it was a huge thing, and was beaten nearly to death by his father. My Grandad was one of very very few men in the village who really didn't give a damn about his sexuality, made a public point of staying friends with him, and didn't care who knew it.) So, I enjoyed Damien surprising his son like this. :) And may we all have Dads, and Grandads, as sweet as he.


	25. Ordinary Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser gets more than he bargained for while walking the dog, RayK has a startling dream, and Cathy makes her Daddies proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Sexual Content.

He would never get used to this light. Twilight, night light... whatever you called this... haze. Darkness never truly fell on Chicago. Sometimes, on a night after rain, the city seemed blue, unnatural, but clean. Other times it was just dirty. 

 

Tonight was the first night that he felt the promise of spring, though there was the threat of rain behind it. It wasn't yet warm, but the chill had lifted. There was still the tang of a thousand cars tainting the air. In the back of his nostrils, on the roof of his mouth. Stink.

 

And dammit, he was getting used to it.

 

Ah, forget it, he told himself. There are worse things than getting used to Chicago. Somewhere nearby he heard a train rattling along, probably from O Hare airport going into town. He shook his head at his own carelessness. He kept finding himself in the strangest parts of the city. What was he thinking?

 

More to the point, what was Dief thinking, dragging him to these places? When he let his mind wander, it was more as though Dief were taking him for a run than the other way round.

 

“Dief,” he said, coming to a halt and slapping his leg. His wolf ignored him. I see you've chosen to be deaf today, he thought, and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered about Dief... whether he was indeed partially deaf, or if he was, as Ray sometimes intimated, putting the whole thing on. He broke into a trot, caught up with his companion, and sank his fingers into his scruff. Dief turned his head, gave him a sorrowful look. Fraser wasn't buying it. “Dief, don't you think a six mile run is enough? We had a run this morning.” A pitiful yip was his only response. Fraser sighed. “We do have some sticky donuts at home...” Thank goodness Ray wasn't here to witness his descent into bribery. Dief brightened up, and started the long lope home.

 

Oh dear Lord. I'm getting old, Fraser thought, as he turned and lengthened his own stride. I forgot about the run back...

 

You pay, and pay, and pay...  
…

 

Ray was dreaming. Well, he hoped he was dreaming. Because if he wasn't dreaming, Fraser was in a whole heap of trouble...

 

“Frase?”

 

Fraser was standing in the rain, at parade rest, on the steps of the Consulate, ignoring him completely. Which was odd on a number of levels. For one thing, he hadn't pulled guard duty since he'd returned to Chicago with a promotion. For another thing, Ray had learned to read Fraser's... whatchumacallit, micro expressions. So even when he was doing his King of the Mounties act he knew what he was thinking... well most times anyway. But there was nothing on his face this time, just blank.

 

But mainly what was odd was the fact that Fraser was buck naked. He didn't even have his Stetson. Ray darted a glance at the people of Chicago walking past. Yeah, must be a dream, because none of them seemed to have proper features. And none of them were freaking out or screaming, or trying to mug his naked Mountie.

 

“Frase,” Ray heard himself say, like an idiot. “Dontcha think you should put some clothes on?” Which was D U M dumb, because that was the last thing he wanted.

 

Fraser blinked, but said nothing. Jeez, it was really coming down. Rain was dripping from Fraser's hair, nose, eyelashes. And he stank. Sweaty and sexy, and not like he was standing guard at all. Uhm... Yeah. This was a dream, definitely. One of Ray's wet, really filthy wet dreams. Cause, fuck's sake, Fraser looked hot when he was wet.

 

Don't look down, Kowalski, he told himself. 

 

Oops... he no sooner thought it than he looked down. Grinned. Oh yeah. This was definitely a dream. Fraser wasn't the only one standing at full attention. “Hey, I see little Benton is awake.” Normally the 'little Benton' thing would lead to Fraser huffily demonstrating that there was nothing 'little' about Benton. Nope. No response from Fraser... apart for a twitch from his buddy down there. 

 

“It's gonna be like that then? Cool...” As the passersby faded into rain Ray realised he was circling Fraser, predatory and hungry, trailing his fingers around his waist, down his thigh, tweaking old scars, up again to...

 

“Oh, now I get a response, do I?” He licked his lips. Fraser might be hiding behind his face, but his cock had other ideas. It was definitely noticing him. “Let's see what else I can do...” And with the stacatto logic of dreams he went from standing to kneeling in a blink, mouth full of Fraser. He shifted, realised he was naked too. His hands were clamped around Fraser's ass, pulling and pushing as he gobbled, his own hard on bobbing away, frustrated and being rained on. Too real, this dream, not real enough. He thrust on air, groaning, wanting something, needing something, a hand, a mouth, friction...

 

Dream, he thought, too much, and not enough... Oh Jeez, wake up, don't wake up...

 

“Ben...”

 

“Hello, Ray... I didn't realise you were awake...”

 

Ray groaned, rolled on his side. Fraser was sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging, still smelling of sweat, and rain. “God, Frase...” He reached out, grabbed a handful of wet shirt. “I musta smelled you. Where you been?”

 

“Dief took me on a run,” he said tiredly. “It started raining on the way back. I'm going to have a shower.”

 

“No, no shower. Not yet.”

 

Fraser turned, his face dimly lit, his hopeful smile barely visible. “Is there any particular reason that you object to my desire for personal hygiene?”

 

“I'll only get you dirty.” He wriggled up to him, and tugged at Fraser's belt. “Come on, get naked.”

 

“I'd be naked in the shower.”

 

“Naked in the bed. Now. Come on, Fraser, you're killing me.”

 

“I'd hate to be the cause of your untimely demise,” Fraser said, leaning over, brushing his lips over Ray's face. Ray sucked in a deep breath. 

 

“You stink. You stink so good.”

 

“I hum,” Fraser murmured against his neck, teasingly. “I reek. I am malodorous, odoriferous. I offend the heavens with my stench.”

 

“Sexy. You smell of sexy man.”

 

“You...” Fraser's cheek pressed in a smile up against Ray's face. He sighed. “You smell of sexy Ray.”

 

“Stop talking.” Ray pulled his head to his mouth, kissed, heavy and hard, urgent. Fraser's tongue pushed back into his mouth, thrust, and Ray grabbed his shoulders, shoved. Fraser fell back on the bed with a moan, and Ray covered him, pinned him, started unbuttoning, rocking himself against his hips. Damn the dark, he thought, fumbling, and felt buttons ping. Okay... what's a button more or less. He yanked the shirt the rest of the way open, fuck the buttons, slid his fingers across Fraser's torso. Fraser was lying still, pretending to be a Mountie, but Ray could feel him, between his legs, shivering. His heart thumping against his chest, resonating through them both. And there...

 

“Benton Buddy,” Ray whispered, unbuttoning Fraser's jeans with one hand, and curling his hand round the warm cock. “I been dreaming about you.”

 

Fraser was twitching in his hands. Micro expressions, Ray thought. Micro expressions that you couldn't see, only feel. Fraser's body shivering, poised to push and thrust. Fraser wasn't even all the way naked, Ray could hardly see him, and he was still sex on a stick. Ray rubbed his head all over the sweaty chest, nipped a nipple, laughed to hear Fraser whimper. “Ben,” Ray whispered into the fur under his arm, and breathed deep. Licked. “Salty,” slid his tongue lower, across his chest, down his stomach, “stinky,” and laughed. Fraser was breathing fast, and his hips were pulsing, barely contained. Ray grinned, continued his descent. He was going to have to make this quick. No time for anything else. He was too damned hard, and he could feel Fraser, against his leg, too damned hard, quivering. He didn't want to torture either one of them.

 

There. There it was. He couldn't see it in the dark, but he could feel it. Warm, and hard, and slippy already. Fraser's groin smelled of sex, and... Ray opened his mouth, slid down fast, filling himself as full as he could. Awh, Jeez, Ben. He grabbed himself and began to move, keeping their dicks in sync. Fraser began to move too, his hands and thighs clenching and unclenching around Ray's head, thrusting. Ray's mouth moved up and down, gathering smooth hardness, tongue playing with foreskin, and his hand pumped, increasingly urgent, as he imagined Fraser's mouth around him, sucking, harder, faster, imagined Fraser doing to him what he was doing now. 

 

Oh, oh, oh... fuck. Fraser spilled into his mouth, triggering him to come, hard and wrenching, all over his hand, all over the bed. He nearly choked with his own groaning and the salt flood in his throat, down his chin. Stars. Holy God, he was seeing stars... He didn't move, letting Fraser soften in his mouth, as he softened in his own hand. Breathe... try to breathe...

 

Fuck. He didn't think he could move...

 

“Ray?” Fraser's hands were on his head, stroking. 

 

He turned his head on Fraser's thigh. Denim, he thought. He hadn't even got his jeans off. “Give me, give me a minute.” 

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Jeez, Ben, you should come home stinking more often.”

 

Fraser laughed, breathily. “I really do need that shower now.”

 

“'Kay.”

 

“Oh dear...”

 

“What?”

 

“I don't know if I can move...”

 

Ray laughed, squirmed up alongside his stinky half naked Mountie. “Let's just snuggle for a minute.”

 

“Snuggle...” Fraser rolled his head onto Ray's shoulder. He sounded wiped. “Hm. A minute.”

 

“Just a minute...”

 

They slept straight through till the alarm.  
…

 

Daddy was up first, as usual. Cathy could smell bacon frying, and mushrooms. Hmm. Yummy. She liked Saturdays, because everybody got a lie in, and they always had a 'big fat cooked breakfast,' as Ray put it. She put her thumb in her mouth, and curled up around Teddy, letting herself doze for a little bit longer. Ray had taken her swimming yesterday, and it always made her sleepier the next morning.

 

Oh dear. She needed to pee. She opened her mouth to call for Daddy, then paused. She was a big girl, she didn't need to be carried to the bathroom, not even in the morning. She sat up, and pushed the button so the bed went down. 

 

Daddy and Ray were going to be so proud of her. Her door was slightly open, which always made her smile, because it meant either Daddy or Ray had looked in on her while she was sleeping. Dief poked his head through the doorway, and she put her fingers to her lips. She walked carefully, watching her bare feet to make sure her weaker foot didn't catch on itself. So far so good...

 

Yay! She'd made it all the way to the bathroom. She grabbed the guard rails, and pulled herself up onto the toilet, wriggled out of her pants, and peed. 

 

Hm. She could never remember if you were meant to wipe your bum from back to front, or front to back. She was always getting that wrong. It made Daddy cross that one time, because she'd got cysty, uhm, cystitis, and he said it was bad for her kidneys. And it hurt, and made her cranky, because she got a temperature, and the doctor said she had to take those horrible tablets that made her want to puke, and if it didn't clear up in a few days she'd have to go into hospital. And Daddy went white, and Ray said 'oh shit,' but it was okay, because it did clear up.

 

Oh, that's right. She remembered now. Front to back, because you didn't want poopoo germs to get near your weewee hole.

 

Okay... 

 

“Good girl,” she told herself, slid off the toilet, made her way to the sink. Oh, flush first. She looked down the toilet at the swirly water, feeling proud of herself. Then she turned the tap, and started washing her hands.

 

“Cathy?” Daddy was standing at the door, smiling. He was in his grey Saturday morning scruffs, and his hair was wet and curly from the shower. But silly Daddy hadn't even shaved.

 

“Hi Daddy!” She was covered in soap up to her elbows, and there was water down her front. She was doing a good job. “I went all by myself, and I didn't wet my pants, and I wiped front to back, and I flushed the toilet, and now I'm washing my hands.”

 

“You clever girl.” 

 

She hung onto the edge of the sink, so she could do a jiggle dance. Daddy really was proud of her. His smile was as good as a hug.

 

Oh.

 

“But now I've splashed my pyjamas.” She frowned at herself. “Sorry.”

 

“Don't worry, princess. You can change into daytime clothes, and then we'll have breakfast.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Daddy went down on one knee, and helped her out of her wet top, started towelling her.

 

“Daddy,” she wrinkled her nose, “you pong.”

 

He looked at her, and blushed. “Uhm, I already had a shower this morning.”

 

“I know. Your hair smells nice. But you pong under your arms. You pong like Ray's gym bag.”

 

“Oh dear,” Daddy said solemnly. “That's bad.”

 

“You should use dee odory stuff.”

 

“I'll remember that.”

 

She put her arms around his neck, and let him lift her. She frowned as they moved through the door. “Daddy, why do you have a bruise on your face?”

 

Daddy's eyes went wide. “Oh... I didn't realise.”

 

“Right there,” she said, touching his cheek bone. He winced. “Sorry Daddy, did that hurt?”

 

“No,” he lied.

 

“You're lying,” she grumped at him. “It's naughty to lie.”

 

“Well, okay. It doesn't hurt very much.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Ehm... I'd better tell you at the same time I tell Ray.”

 

She shook her head. Boys. They were always getting into trouble. “Ray,” she called. “Daddy's hurt his face.”

 

There was a grunt from the big bedroom, and the door slammed open. Ray stumbled into the living room in tracksuit bottoms, pulling a teeshirt over his head. His hair was sticking out even more than usual, looking like a poor hedgehog that had been flattened by a car. A bit spiky, a bit flat, and all messy. He blinked, stared at her and Daddy, then stuck his hands on his hips.

 

“Fraser, what the hell happened?” He was so cross he forgot not to swear.

 

“Ah, well, it was nothing really,” Daddy said. “Diefenbaker seems to have had an intuition, and led me to a crime scene...”

 

“Crime scene? Only you could keep finding crime scenes when you're out walking the dog! You're meant to be living carefully these days.”

 

“Well, I couldn't very well let those men beat that young woman to death...”

 

“Men? As in more than one? They coulda beaten you to death...”

 

“I very much doubt that,” Daddy said, sounding snippy. “I did, after all, have an Arctic wolf on my side, and I'm scarcely helpless when it comes to such matters...”

 

“Okay, okay...” Ray sighed. “You can't help it. It's just an ordinary day in Fraser land. S'not your fault a gypsy cursed you at birth. So, you got the guys?”

 

“Yes. I made a citizen's arrest, gave my statement when the police arrived, and made sure the woman left safely in the ambulance. She's going to be fine, by the way. Just a bit shaken up.”

 

“So, that's why you were late home last night.”

 

“Yes. Well, that and Diefenbaker seemed to think going for a twelve mile run in the rain was a good idea.”

 

Ray laughed. “And you say he's getting soft.”

 

“Obviously I have underestimated him.”

 

Cathy looked at Ray's face, then at Daddy's. For a moment she had thought they were going to be cross, but they seemed to have calmed down. She couldn't understand why Ray got cross when Daddy had adventures. She thought it was wonderful.

 

“Ray,” Daddy said, “after you've, uhm, washed up quickly, could you help Cathy get dressed? I'll put breakfast on the table.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Ray flashed her one of his pretty smiles. “I'm just going to our bathroom, wait a minute, sweet knees.”

 

“Okay,” she said, and wriggled in Daddy's arms, so she could have a proper look at his face. “Poor bruise,” she said, stroking it. “I hope it's better soon.”

 

“It will be fine.”

 

“Why were they beating the woman up?”

 

“They were bad men.”

 

“People should have reasons.”

 

“I know. Some people are just cruel.”

 

“But you stopped them?”

 

“Yes. Well, Dief and I.”

 

“So, it's lucky you came along when you did.”

 

“I suppose it was.”

 

“Were you really cursed by a gypsy?”

 

“Cursed by a gypsy?”

 

“Ray said you were.”

 

“Oh, he was joking. He meant that I encounter more crimes than is statistically probable.”

 

“Is that why you've got cuts on your leg?” Poor Daddy had bobos on his leg as well as his back. They were all white and bald, and angry looking, like someone had scribbled on him.

 

“Oh.” Daddy glanced away, sucked in his lower lip. “I didn't realise you'd seen them...”

 

“We've been swimming. And I'm crippled, not blind.”

 

Daddy's voice went sharp. “Who's called you crippled?”

 

She looked at him, mischievously. “Jerks.”

 

“Oh, Cathy,” he tried not to smile, but she could see it tucked away, in his cheek maybe. “You can't keep saying that. It was only funny once.”

 

“But it was very, very funny,” she said, comfortably, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

Daddy gave her a kiss. “You're very very naughty, and I love you.”

 

“I love you Daddy.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Ray had made it in record time out of the shower. His hair was still mussy, but clean. “Let's get you dressed, sweet knees. Then Daddy can finish our big fat breakfast.”

 

“Good. Because I could eat the table,” Cathy informed him, seriously.

 

“Oh,” Daddy said, as he handed her over. “Cathy has good news for you.”

 

“Yeah? What's that?”

 

Ooh yes! Cathy remembered, and squeezed her hands together with glee. “I went to the toilet all by myself.”

 

“You did?” Ray pushed his nose into her belly, and made a fart noise. She giggled. “Clever little hedgehog.”

 

So while Ray helped her pick out a pretty dress she told him all about it. And then they had breakfast, and she fed Diefy little bits of bacon, and Ray winked at her, and Daddy put two extra slices of bacon on her plate, and pretended not to see anything as she dropped the rinds under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little children are always very proud when they go potty by themselves for the first time! Just in case any non parents are reading this and thinking... eh? You what say? She wrote a chapter with a kid going to the loo? It's a major life event, honestly! Just, most of us can't remember the glorious day.
> 
> Seriously, this is based on real children's reactions. You'd be surprised how happy it makes kids when they first manage by themselves.


	26. Feeling Like a Teenager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayK goes swinging, RayV and Anna feed ducks with Cathy and plan a surprise, Fraser receiecves a package, and Frannie overhears a conversation.

Anna's hand slid into his, and he let his fingers tangle between hers. They walked together, and he felt her warmth against his shoulder, and smiled. This was... strangely comfortable. He hadn't expected to feel comfortable with a woman again. And yet, she still had the power to make him feel like a teenager. All shy, and confused, and utterly helpless. She might turn, and look at him, and smile, and his heart would catch in his throat. How was he supposed to touch a woman like her? He still couldn't believe it, sometimes. She was too damned beautiful for him.

 

But then, when she kissed him, she drove all such insecurities out of him. Because... she had been the first one to lean into a kiss. Over a dinner table, just after the plates for the main course were cleared, just before the arrival of deserts. He was talking some crap or other, and she was looking at him like she gave a damn what he thought about things, and, he actually believed her for a moment. Then he heard what he was saying... long focus lenses or some such shit, and his mouth dried up. What the hell was she looking at him like that for? He was the boringest fuck on the planet.

 

“Sorry,” he managed to say, but then she'd leaned over the table, and stopped his mouth. And it wasn't just a kiss, not a 'shut up' kiss (and he'd had those before) but an 'I need to taste you' kiss, and her hand went up to the side of his face, and she stroked him. Her thumb caressed his ear, and her fingers trailed the length of his neck, and when she came up for breath she was flushed, and her eyes were dark.

 

And here they were, walking through the park together, holding hands, and he was in his forties, and she made him feel like a teenager.

 

“You reckon Cathy'll be feeding the ducks,” he said, starting conversation just to hear her voice.

 

“Seems to be her mission in life.”

 

“Frannie will need a break,” he pointed out. “She's gonna have to start taking it easier. Poor kid's as big as a whale.”

 

“Hey, she's not that bad,” Anna smiled. “She's just petite, makes the baby look bigger.”

 

“You think she's gonna be all right?” He realised he was being over protective, but hey... this was his kid sister. “I mean, Maria was a lot younger when she had her kids, and she had Tony. Tony's a jerk, but still, you know. It's gonna be hard on Frannie, having the kid, and not having the Dad around.”

 

“Maybe she doesn't want the Dad around.”

 

Ray sighed. He still knew nothing about the Dad. Horrible worries went through his head. Frannie'd always had such rotten luck with guys. But... well, Frannie said he wasn't a bad guy, just not someone she wanted around as a Dad. Yeah, but still. She was in her thirties, but she was still his kid sis. He worried.

 

Anna stopped, turned, took both hands between hers. “Ray,” she said, gently. “I know it's hard to believe it, but you know, Frannie's a grown up now.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” He looked at their conjoined hands, abashed. “But she's still my little sister.”

 

“And you're her big brother, and you'll always look out for her. But if she needs you, she'll tell you. So, don't panic, okay? Frannie's a tough cookie. She'll be fine.”

 

Gently, Ray leant forward and pecked her nose. Anna was the first one, of all his girlfriends, who actually liked Frannie. Well, apart from Irene Zucko. And Irene had come from the same sort of shit that he and Frannie did. Since then... well, people just didn't get Frannie. Half the time he didn't even get her. He smiled at Anna. He was stupidly grateful... not just that, against all odds, she was into him, but that she was kind to Frannie. Patient with Ma.

 

Ma was being less than patient with her. She'd got to the point where she saw all of Ray's girlfriends as potential heart breakers, and treated them accordingly. He felt it cloud across his face, and Anna, of course, saw it. She lifted a hand to his face, stroked it. “What?”

 

“I'm sorry, just thinking.”

 

“You're looking sad again. You know I don't like it when you look sad. Makes me want to kiss you better.” She tilted her head, slightly, kissed him. He moved into it, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other between her shoulder blades. He'd never been out with such a tall woman before, and liked it that he didn't have to bend down, that she didn't have to step up on tiptoes. They could relax into a kiss. “So,” she murmured, “have I kissed you better?”

 

“Some,” he answered, rubbing circles on her back. “Think you missed a spot,” he smiled against her cheek, and kissed again.

 

“Hey, get a room,” came a voice, and they broke for a moment, saw a skateboarding teenager whizzing past. Anna laughed, turned back to him. 

 

“You know, if we weren't babysitting Cathy, that wouldn't be a half bad suggestion.”

 

“Well, let's go get the little sproglet. Can't wait to see what she thinks when she sees the surprise.”

 

Anna smirked. It had been her idea. “She's going to love it. If she doesn't love it, I'll eat her father's Stetson.”  
…

 

Uncle Ray and Anna (she hoped she'd be her Auntie, but nobody had said yet) were smiling as they met her and Frannie at the playground. Last time she was here Ray had set her on his knees, and they had gone down the slide a thousand times. (Well Daddy said that was an exaggeration, but still, it was fun.) She wanted Daddy to go down it with her, but he was still sore from running with Dief and beating up bad guys, so he sat and watched, and did that cringe thing behind his hands when they went down too fast, like he didn't want to see, but couldn't stop looking. Some of the new Mommies and Daddies who didn't know them yet (it was mainly Mommies) looked annoyed to see Ray sitting on the swings and going down the slide, until they realised she couldn't walk properly, and then they whispered behind their hands, and some of them went 'awh.' Ray put his head to her ear and said, really quiet, “hey, don't worry sweet knees, only reason I'm doing this is I want to go on the swings for myself. You're my co conspiry thing,” and she said “conspirator,” and he said, “yeah, that.” And then he pushed out really hard with his feet, wrapping his arms around her belly, and she screamed as they went high, higher, highest.

 

Eventually Ray had persuaded Daddy that she could go down the slide by herself, so he followed her up to the top, helped her sit down, and Daddy caught her at the bottom. And they did that till her back got kind of sore, so Daddy carried her to the car, and she fell asleep before they got home. 

 

She asked Frannie if she could all that swinging and sliding again, and Frannie said, “I'll go on the swings for a bit, but I'm very very pregnant. You'll have to wait till Ray and Anna get here for the slide.” So Cathy said, “how can you be very pregnant? You're either pregnant or you're not,” and Frannie said, “is it genetic or something?” And Cathy rubbed her eyebrow, and said, “is what genetic,” and Frannie laughed, and said, “you're your father's daughter,” which always made her happy, though sometimes people rolled their eyes when they said it, which was a little bit weird.

 

“Ray! Anna!” She pushed herself along on her walker, trundling as fast as she could. Frannie had put her in her walker because they had been going to feed the ducks, and she was going to be on her feet all day, so people didn't want her to get tired. Not that she would get tired. She was getting stronger all the time. But she liked the walker, because it made her stand up straighter, and now she could even run a little bit in it. Uncle Ray started jogging, and she went 'whee' very very very fast, and then she bumped right into his knees, grabbed his trousers, and hid in the long flaps of his coat. 

 

“Owch, you little monkey,” he said, and hunkered down, and kissed her. “You been keeping your aunt Frannie busy?”

 

“We went on the swing, and then I went on the roundabout, but not as fast as Ray does it. And then I tried to play hopscotch, but I fell down, but I didn't cry.”

 

“She didn't,” Frannie said, admiringly. “She just got up and tried again.”

 

“And then I fell down again, so I thought, I'll try again next time.”

 

“Good girl,” Uncle Ray said, “never give up.”

 

Cathy smiled up at him, then smiled up at Anna. She was smiley too, but never said quite as much as uncle Ray. She was going to ask her one day why that was. Right now she just said, “hiya Anna. How are you today?”

 

“I'm fine, Cathy,” she said, and Cathy liked the way she spoke to her, like she was a grown up. “And how are you?”

 

“I'm fine too, I've had a nice day. We were going to feed the ducks.”

 

“Well, say goodbye to Frannie,” Uncle Ray said, “and we'll go and feed the ducks, and then Anna and I have a surprise for you.” 

 

“What's the surprise,” Frannie asked, and Uncle Ray looked mischievous, and started talking Italian. Cathy concentrated very hard, because some Italian words sounded a little bit like French, and some even sounded a little bit like English, but all she understood was 'surprise' which she already knew, 'Benny will like it,' which was nice, and then there was 'beautiful', and a new word, 'cavallo,' which sounded really pretty.

 

“Bello cavallo,” she repeated, and sucked her finger, thoughtfully. Frannie and Uncle Ray stared at her, surprised. 

 

“Nice accent,” Frannie said, reluctantly. “Did you understand that?”

 

“Something's pretty,” she said. “But I don't know 'cavallo.' It sounds like I should know it, but I don't.”

 

“Have you been listening in and learning Italian,” Uncle Ray asked, raising his eyebrows. He looked surprised and proud. “What do you think, Anna, she's a clever girl, don't you think?”

 

“She's obviously a genius,” Anna said, smiling. “You're going to have to learn Russian, Ray, if you're going to keep any secrets from her.”

 

“My Daddy speaks Russian,” Cathy informed her. “I bet he could teach me.”

 

“I bet you could learn anything you put your mind to,” Anna said. Cathy shook her head, firmly. 

 

“Not math. The numbers go all upside down.” She sighed, trying to sound very grown up about it. “Well, we can't be good at everything.” 

 

“Never mind,” said Uncle Ray, and stood on one side of her walker, put his hand on the rail, because her own hands were holding the front, and walked alongside her. “I'm not clever at languages like you.” He lifted his hand to his sister, and smiled. “See you, Fran.”

 

“Oh, see you Frannie,” she called out too, and then they all waved at her, and went to feed the ducks.

 

The whole time the ducks came quacking, she kept teasing Uncle Ray and Anna, asking what the surprise was, but they just kept grinning to each other, and tearing up the bread so she could throw it to the birds.  
…

 

Fraser didn't pay much attention to the parcel at first, when it arrived at the Consulate. There was no reason, after all, why he should. Plenty of mail arrived addressed for his personal attention after all.

 

Finally he got the British ambassador off the phone, and took a moment to gather his strength. That man could be extremely trying. There was no getting away from the fact that he considered England to be the motherland, and the Canadians to be hopelessly outclassed colonials. For a moment Fraser felt a great deal of sympathy for the heroes of the American War of Independence. He sighed, then laughed at the momentary vision of alternative history that flashed through his mind. Good Lord, that man could try the patience of a saint. He considered, briefly, getting himself a cup of tea, then shrugged it off. He'd open his mail first, get the last of the paperwork out of the way. Then he might have time to meet Ray for lunch...

 

The parcel was the third item that he opened.

 

Babies, he thought, puzzled, scratching his brow. Baby photos. At first, he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, it seemed so... unlikely. Then it hit him.

 

These were Cathy's baby photos. Little snapshots in time. Newborn, first smiles, sitting solemn eyed, plump cheeked, sucking a wooden spoon with chocolate all over her face...

 

Oh, good Lord. Who had taken that one... A wave of compassion mixed horribly with nausea came over him, but he couldn't stop staring. Victoria, very discretely covered in a shawl, nursing Cathy. Her face partly obscured by that beautiful hair, gazing down at her baby, and Cathy gazing up. Maybe six months old...

 

“Corporal? Sir?” He blinked back to himself, and stared at the filing clerk. She was shuffling nervously, blushing a little.

 

“Yes, I'm sorry,” he said, his voice as mild and unmoved as it ever was. “What can I do for you, Shelly?”

 

“I need you to sign these, Sir.”

 

He nodded, distracted, and signed them. The poor girl blushed even harder, then smiled. “Are those pictures of Cathy?”

 

“Yes,” he said, blushing himself, and gathering them up into a pile covered them with his hand. “Er... baby photos.”

 

“Her mother's very pretty,” the girl said, wistfully.

 

His voice cramped in his throat. “Very,” he agreed, painfully.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry Sir,” she said. “I didn't mean to make you sad.”

 

“You didn't... I'm not.”

 

She looked at him far too closely, then blurted out, “I'm sorry, Sir, is she dead?” As soon as she said it, he could see panic rising in her eyes. He stared at her, felt himself pull rank without even opening his mouth. I'm turning into Inspector Thatcher, he thought, as Shelly paled. He knew he should take pity on her, but...

 

“Dismissed,” he said, pulled another envelope toward him, and opened it, as though everything was all right, as though he could just go on with his workday like nothing had happened.

 

When he looked up again, Shelly was out of the room, and he sat back in his chair, finally giving into it. He shook. Then, he swept all the pictures together into his briefcase. He had to get out of here. 

 

He had to go find Cathy. He had to make sure... had to make sure she was safe.  
…

 

Ray bounced up the front steps of the Consulate, and strolled, smiling, up to reception. It was that cute kid who had a crush on Fraser. He could afford to be sweet to her. After all, he was the one Fraser went home to. And Millie had a little bit of a crush on him too. “Hey there,” he said, “I know I'm early, but can I wait here till Fraser's finished?” Silence. “Shelly?” Awh, Jeez, she was crying. Ray parked his posterior on the edge of her desk, put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Hey, kid... tell me about it. What happened?” Boyfriend trouble, he thought. She's still young enough that would make her cry at work. He wanted to tell her that she'd have toughened up by the time she was his age, but somehow that didn't seem like much of a comfort.

 

“It's, er, I'm sorry. It's my fault.”

 

“Hey, don't worry about it.” He resisted the urge to flick a tear off her face with his finger. It would be a big brotherly gesture, but it might be misconstrued. He took his hand off her shoulder. “We all have bad days. What happened?”

 

“I, er, I upset the Corporal.”

 

“You upset Fraser?” Ray felt his brow knot in puzzlement. He couldn't think what Shelly could have done to warrant this.

 

“He, er, he got some photos in the mail, and I said something... I mean, I shouldn't have. I was too... personal.”

 

“What photos?”

 

“His, er, his ex. I think. Cathy's mother, it looked like...”

 

Ray was on his feet, flinching back from the desk like it was on fire. “What, he got pictures of Victoria?”

 

“Only one... the rest were baby photos.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“He left. Said... said he had to go somewhere.”

 

“Oh, Jesus.” He realised, distantly, as he spun on his heel and ran for the door that this probably looked like a damned soap opera, but frankly, he didn't give a shit. Where would Fraser go? He pulled out his cellphone and stabbed the number in as he ran. 

 

“Fraser? Fraser, pick up the damned phone...” No answer. Shit, shit... It hit him... Cathy. Where the hell was Cathy? He'd got as far as the car in record time, slammed into the driver's seat. Calm the fuck down... Oh yeah. Vecchio. He took a steadying breath, dialled in the number.

 

“Ray Vecchio...”

 

“Hey, Vecchio, thank God,” he managed. “Listen, you got Cathy?”

 

“Yeah, she's with us now. You all right Kowalski?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... don't let Cathy out of your sight.”

 

“Why?” Vecchio's voice had gone into cop mode, all systems go. “What's going on?”

 

“I dunno, but Fraser's gone AWOL, and Victoria's sent pictures.”

 

“Jesus,” Vecchio's voice faded, then snapped back. “Bitch. Look, I'll get Cathy, we're heading back to my place. You find Benny, get yourselves over. And we'll stick to Cathy like a tatoo. Promise.”

 

“Thanks... thanks.”

 

By the time he'd caught up to Fraser, Vecchio, Anna and Cathy were long gone. Fraser was leaning over a fence, looking at the ponies, white as marble.

 

“Frase?”

 

“Ray,” he said, tonelessly.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

Fraser turned, looked at him bleakly. “I panicked. I should have... should have called ahead.”

 

“Well, you know she's safe now.” He gestured to the cellphone in Fraser's hand. “I just talked to Ray, and she's at the Vecchios'. I reckon the whole clan will have descended by now. They're better than a police cordon. Nothing's gonna get past them.”

 

“I'm an idiot,” Fraser said, shaking his head. “I should have phoned you, should have phoned Ray... instead I phoned and asked his mother for directions. As though... all I had to do was run, and keep on running, and I'd somehow save the day.” He pulled a face, as though he'd smelled something bad. “All I had to do was ask. Ask for help.” He looked away. “I'm not very good at that.”

 

“Hey, Frase, you just panicked.” Carefully he came up alongside him, slid an arm around his waist. Fraser stiffened in his embrace, then relaxed, and dropped his head on his shoulder. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

 

“Oh, nothing. Probably nothing. She... Victoria, she sent pictures. Baby pictures of Cathy. One of them... one of them...”

 

“What?”

 

“I don't know who took it. Maybe some other poor fool she was pulling along on a leash. It was, really...” He sighed. “Anyone would look at it, and think, what a beautiful picture. Mother and child. Madonna and child, even. But... I've seen what she does to people she claims to love.” Ray squeezed Fraser, but said nothing. “I saw that picture, saw her looking at Cathy like she loved her and... it scared me.” His voice dropped. “Scared me half to death.”

 

“Cathy's safe,” Ray reassured him. “And, you know, maybe...” the woman's name stuck in his throat, “maybe she just sent the pictures because she wanted to... I dunno, make a clean break? Or maybe she really does love Cathy, and just wanted her to have them.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Come on, Frase, let's go. Get us all to the Vecchios. Cuddle Cathy, feel safe. Victoria's gone. She's not coming back.” He said it like he meant it. And if Fraser looked like he doubted him... well, he couldn't help that. Couldn't help it if he wasn't sure himself.

 

But he could hang onto Fraser when it looked like Fraser couldn't hang on. He tightened his arm around him, tugged him into walking, urged him along the path.

 

“I took a consulate vehicle... I need to... someone needs to...”

 

“You can get someone to pick it up. You're in no state to drive.”

 

“No,” Fraser said, vaguely, looking at the ground. Awh, Jeez... Ray paused outside the car, gathered Fraser into a full embrace, and kissed him. 

 

“Sweetheart,” Ray's voice roughened. He wasn't going to cry. “Ben, it's gonna be okay.” Fraser nodded, like a puppet, like he wasn't even there. Absently he patted Ray's arm. Ray kissed him again, forehead, eyes, mouth. Gentled him into the car, settled himself in the driver's seat, took a breath, and started the engine.  
…

Frannie was lying on her back on the sofa, feeling like a beach ball, as the baby danced away like a lunatic, playing havoc with her kidneys. Cathy had decided to snuggle up next to her, and had fallen asleep, still talking about ponies, and sugar cubes and carrots. She was squeezed right into the narrow gap between Frannie and the sofa back, tucked in tight against her. Soon there wouldn't be room for them to do this, she thought, if the baby kept getting bigger.

 

The big panic seemed to be calming down. She knew why everyone was panicking... she wasn't there when that Victoria bitch turned up the first time, nearly destroying Fraser, and her brother in the process. But she'd seen the aftermath. At times, like today, it seemed they were all still living in the wreckage of it. But... She looked at Cathy sleeping on her arm, her hair, still baby soft, flung across her chest like a coffee coloured cloud, and she couldn't actually be sorry Victoria had come into their lives. She was like a... what was it that wildlife show had said... like when a herd of elephants trampled through and destroyed a forest. But then, afterwards, all the shoots and flowers came up, and things came back to life again. Apparently you needed elephants to trample the forest, or the forest would die. 

 

She stroked Cathy's hair, and grinned. She wondered if anyone had ever compared Victoria to a herd of elephants before. A hurricane maybe. Hurricane Victoria. 

 

Yeah, well. They had Cathy. Nobody was going to hurt her little angel. Not even her hurricane of a mother.

 

She heard her brother and Fraser's Ray mumbling in the next room. Fraser had come in, sat staring at Cathy until his eyes musta hurt, then he'd started blinking, and her brother had taken him out of the room. “Don't worry, Benny, she's fine. Lie down, just a minute. You're no good to her if...” and the men's voices continued, fading as she dozed.

 

When she woke up again, she could hear Ma and Anna talking in the kitchen. She listened, idly at first.

 

“I know he's been badly treated...” Cathy snuffled, and breathed some of her hair into her mouth. Frannie smoothed it away from her face, so she could breath easier. “... a long time. First time I saw him...” Despite herself, Frannie started to listen, feeling like a sneak, but unable to stop herself.

 

“He's been in and out of the hospital, for years. You know, cop stuff, visiting people... and when he was injured himself. So, I saw him, you know? And first time I really paid attention to him, he was visiting Benny, when he was in because of that...” Automatically Frannie's hands covered Cathy's ears, so that she didn't, even in her sleep, hear anything bad about her mother. Ma was talking now.

 

“I just worry so much about him... he's had so much bad luck...”

 

“I'd never hurt him,” Anna's voice again. “He's only really known me a few months, but I've been...” a sigh of a laugh, sad sounding. “I've noticed him for years. He was always... I don't know how to put it... loving people. I see a lot of cops in my job. But he was different.”

 

“He's my first baby,” Ma said, “and he was always such a sweet boy.”

 

“He's a sweet man,” Anna said. “I saw him looking out for Benny, I saw him when Irene died... and there was Benny looking out for him. I thought, they're like brothers. The way they care for each other. That's a beautiful thing, really. And then, he was in that time when...” There was a pause. “I'm sorry, Mrs Vecchio, I don't mean to make you sad.”

 

“Ma. You can call me Ma.”

 

“Ma.” Anna cleared her throat. “I saw him when he came in that time, and he'd been shot for Benny. You know, people talk. It wasn't the first time he took a bullet for him. And then, through the years... It's not like I never had another boyfriend. But I did always think of him. I couldn't, though, I just couldn't. I don't know... I didn't have the nerve.”

 

Frannie felt goosebumps. She'd seen the way Anna looked at her brother, but she'd never realised... Years? She'd been looking at Ray for years?

 

“And then he was coming in again, with little Cathy, with Benny, with Frannie. Looking after everyone.” She humphed a laugh. “Not looking after himself though. And I kept thinking, what a lovely man, why can't I find a man like that? Till I thought, well, maybe I can. And maybe he'd let me look after him. Maybe if I just ask him...”

 

“I'm sorry,” Ma said, “I'm sorry if I seemed standoffish. I didn't know.”

 

“Yeah, well. I didn't mean to say all that. I just wanted to say, today? Seeing the way he'd do anything to protect his friend, his friend's daughter? I've seen that in him, for years. And I'll never hurt him. I swear.”

 

“I know,” Ma sighed. “I know that now. Come here.”

 

There was silence in the kitchen, and Frannie could picture it, clearly, the women hugging. There was a little wetness in the corner of her eye, and it trickled to her ear. But when people came into the room again, it looked, for all the world, as though she was still asleep.


	27. Food Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser can't sleep, Cathy learns that horses speak Inuktitut, the Rays have a food fight, and RayK has an epiphany.

He was being foolish. Fraser stared at the ceiling... or would stare at it, if it wasn't night-time. Recently, in deference to his continued dislike of the Chicago night haze, they had invested in heavy curtains, that kept the light out. Unlike Ray, he was used to darkness. He had tolerated the light pollution before, of course, at his first apartment in Chicago. His office at the Consulate, for all its Spartan nature, had, at least, been so placed as to keep out pale blue and yellow smudges from the glass. But whatever he had been able to tolerate when first in Chicago, he found, after the progression of years, that it was increasingly difficult to bear. Really, it was shocking how few years it took for him to start settling in his ways. It was the dim electric dazzle that kept him awake nights. If it had been truly light, he could have borne it. After all, he had lived through twenty four hour days. If it had been truly dark, again, he could stand it. 

 

Perhaps it wasn't the light.

 

He flung his arm over his eyes. He hadn't been away from Chicago that long. Not long enough, surely to become unaccustomed to the peculiarities of its ambience. He felt Ray breathing beside him, and felt a new respect for the fact that he had pushed through alien nights and days himself, for Fraser's sake. Ray had slogged through the long dark, fizzed and rattled through the endless days. Surely Fraser could tolerate a few... what... street lights for him?

 

The heavy curtains contained night within the room, and yes, he knew if he stepped outside there would be no brightly shining moon, no vibrant snow dazzling into the distance beneath a field of stars. No aurora Borealis dancing against the sky. It was no longer even the right time of year for such displays. Spring crept on apace, here, as elsewhere. But at least, in this sanctuary, in their bedroom, he could pretend it was a Yukon night.

 

He still couldn't sleep.

 

He was lying on his back, grimly, feeling the dull ache, right in the...

 

Right in the small of it. He didn't want to think of the biology. The science of it, the vertebrae that had nearly been destroyed. Small of his back. It hurt. From tension, he assumed. The lack of sleep wasn't helping. He didn't want to think how close he had come to losing the use of his legs.

 

She would have liked that. Victoria would have loved that.

 

Instead it was their daughter who had borne the brunt of the injury.

 

Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid man, he told himself, and rolled to his side. He had to remind himself yet again that Cathy's disability was not some sort of familial curse. The sins of the fathers, indeed... Why did that thought creep up on him when he was down? Victoria simply had not had enough folic acid while pregnant. Presumably being on the run hadn't lent itself to proper prenatal care. He'd read studies which indicated that fear and anxiety in pregnant women could lead to depletions in...

 

Shut up, shut up, shut up. You're looking for something to blame yourself for, he told himself, and stifled a groan. So, she had been fearful and anxious. Well, she deserved to be. He couldn't have saved her. What, if he had somehow been able to persuade her to take vitamin B tablets, everything would have been all right?

 

Damn.

 

It had been nights, and nights, and nights, and he was barely sleeping. Not since the parcel arrived. A couple of hours, if he was lucky.

 

Damn.

 

Ray was asleep with his back to him. It was surprising how much he tossed and turned, full of energy even in his sleep. When Ray flung himself into Fraser's space he would slide all over him. Arms, and warm strong legs, and chin sliding into the hook between Fraser's head and shoulder. There was nothing personal in the way he was curled up now. Fraser read the nobbles of his spine with his fingers, like braille. Ray simply took up room. Normally the fidgeting presence of his lover was a comfort, paradoxically helping him to sleep better. He couldn't be still, even when sleeping. Well... unless Fraser had made sure he was utterly worn out first.

 

Despite all his worries, a smile crept over his face, and he snuggled up to Ray, wriggled his arms around him, and hugged. Very little would wake Ray, unless Ray chose to be woken. Fraser felt his penis warming, as he pressed up against the familiar curves and lines, and wondered if he should give Ray something to wake up for... No. No... Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean that he should deprive Ray of his well earned rest. There would be time. Besides. His back hurt, and he was, frankly, exhausted. Right now, Ray groaned, leaned back into his embrace. Mumbled something, sniggered at a dream joke, and squeezed his hand. Somehow, Fraser realised, his hand had moved up to Ray's chest, and Ray's hands had moved to his, caught them, like a bride's maid catching the bouquet.

 

He sighed, nuzzled right up into the curve where slender neck met shoulder, and inhaled. Spooned, he thought. They called this spooning. Fraser had never spooned with anyone but Ray.

 

He smelled good.

 

Ray relaxed, released his hand. Fraser let his hand float up, stroke Ray's chin. It felt grainy, as though Ray were made of finely sanded wood. 

 

Perhaps he couldn't sleep, but there was still comfort in the dark. Ray rolled again, right into the curve of his arm. Fraser leant forward so that their foreheads rested against each other. Ray's breath warmed his lips, in little feathers of flutter and touch. 

 

Finally, finally, he drifted. Not to sleep, not quite, but at least to something nearer peace.  
…

 

Daddy was walking alongside her and Bonnie. She loved Bonnie, Bonnie loved her, and Daddy loved her, and Daddy loved Bonnie too.

 

Daddy had his hand on her back, lightly, but she didn't mind. Because this was really difficult, and it was a big grown up thing...

 

“Okay, sweetheart, we're going to trot for a minute. Tap with your heels, and don't pull the reins.”

 

Her heart was hammery in her chest with excitement, and concentrating hard she tapped her heels. The right one worked better than the left, but this time she did manage to flop her weak ankle along Bonnie's side. Bonnie was a sweet little pony, and she was clever. She understood what Cathy was doing, even if her leg was being floppy like a noodle, so she sped up a little bit. Daddy started to jog alongside them, with that lovely smile on his face, and it was... ouchy that was a bump... so much fun that she didn't want to stop, even though her back was getting kind of sore.

 

Daddy was too clever for her though. She tried to pretend her back was fine, but he knew, like he always did. He kept one hand on her back, and gathered the reins with the other. Gently he spoke to Bonnie, and she slowed, and stopped. Cathy had been looking at the shadows of the trees, like Daddy taught her. It was time to go anyway.

 

“That's a pretty language, Daddy. What is it?” It sounded like something he sang sometimes, but she wasn't sure. He spoke so many languages, and they all sounded pretty when he sang.

 

“It's Inuktitut,” he said, lifting her gently from the saddle and cradling her in his left arm. “All horses speak Inuktitut. And possibly Cree.”

 

“Bonnie's a pony.”

 

“Ah, she looks like a pony, but in her head she's a mighty steed.”

 

Bonnie nudged him with her broad nose, and he stroked it. Cathy liked Bonnie's nose. It felt like velvet. “You're as bad as Diefenbaker,” he informed the little pony, trying to sound stern, but spoiling the effect by smiling. “Besides, I'm not the cupboard. Ask Cathy.” Bonnie huffed, nudged again, and looked up at Cathy. Cathy smiled, and pulled out a carrot. Bonnie was such a cute, such a very little pony, and she couldn't believe Uncle Ray and Aunt Anna had found her. She wasn't Cathy's pony, of course, she was a special pony who helped other boys and girls learn to ride. But she was the prettiest thing in the world, all white and chocolately splodged, her mane and tail the colour of straw, and Cathy never wanted to go home.

 

As though Daddy had heard what she was thinking he said, “sorry Princess, we have to say goodbye to Bonnie.”

 

“Awh, Daddy, can't we stay a bit longer? I got to comb her mane last time.”

 

“I know, I know. But Bonnie's got to help that little boy over there. See him in his wheelchair? That's Bonnie's job, to help children.”

 

“She'll get tired.”

 

“Don't worry, I spoke to Pete, he'll take good care of her after she's finished her next job.”

 

Cathy nodded, sadly. Pete was already coming across the field to lead Bonnie away. She liked Pete, even if his hair was really surprising and blue. He was always nice to all the ponies, and especially Bonnie, who was his favourite. Which was only fair, after all, because Bonnie was the best.

 

“Okay,” she said. “Next week, can I have the last ride? Then we can help Pete clean her and comb her and put her to bed.”

 

“Yes,” Daddy kissed her hair. “Now, give Bonnie her goodbye kisses.” He stooped a little, and bit his lower lip like something was sore. Cathy blew on Bonnie's nose, making a ruffle noise with her lips, which was the same as a horsey kiss. Bonnie blew back. Brinny hinny hooey ha, like in the Narnian Tales. Maybe Daddy was right, and Bonnie could secretly talk. She wished she could talk to horses like Daddy did. Maybe he'd teach her how to do it, one day.

 

Ray was just pulling in as they got to the car park. Normally Cathy would have wanted to walk, hanging on to Daddy's hand, because the gravel was crunchy and she liked the noise it made. But her legs were tired from sitting on Bonnie. She was getting stronger, and able to sit in the saddle for longer, and Daddy said it was normal, but she was glad she could sit on his arm. Ray rolled down the window and grinned at her.

 

“Hey, sweet knees, how was riding?”

 

“I could kick both my ankles this time, and Bonnie trotted.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

“Do I have to go in the baby chair? I can ride a horse now, I'm not a baby.”

 

Daddy put on his snippy voice. “It's not a baby chair, it's a specially adapted seat for...”

 

“For babies,” Cathy grumbled, as he strapped her in. Daddy gave her 'the look,' and he actually fooled her, because she thought he was cross for a minute. Then he broke back into a smile. 

 

“You're always going to be my baby, Cathy, I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it.”

 

She tried to give him 'the look' back, but she wanted to giggle, so it didn't work. She pushed out her tongue instead.

 

When they got to the drive-through, Daddy was asleep. “Ray,” she asked, “wake Daddy up so he can say what he wants.”

 

“Nah, sweet knees. I'll choose for him. He needs to sleep.”

 

She looked at Daddy, surprised. “Is he still growing?”

 

Ray laughed. “Hope not. Nah, he's just tired.” For a moment Ray sounded sad, then he was talking into the clown's mouth. Cathy forgot what she'd been asking about and pleaded (whingey whingey whined, Ray called it) all the way home, asking if she could have a fry, just a little one, how about an onion ring, please, please, please. Daddy slept through it all. When they were home Ray touched Daddy's face, and he opened his eyes, blinking hard, liked he'd just bobbed out of the water, and had no idea where he was. Then he was smiling, and unstrapping her from the car, and making jokes, and Dief was standing up at the living room window, barking hello through the glass.

 

Then they were eating burgers, and watching cartoons, and she had grease all over her fingers, but Daddy didn't get to finish his food, because he fell asleep on the couch.  
…

 

Jeez, Ray thought, I can't believe we're having to turn clients away now. At this rate, they could stop doing divorce work. Which, he had to admit, he'd be kinda glad of. Kowalski had a point, it was more than a little bit sleazy at times. He shook his head, incredulously. Business had really taken off after that corporate job, and Kowalski had a way of winning over bigwigs that had taken him by surprise. He'd always known he was a good cop, but... well, he hadn't expected him to be such a charmer. Which was stupid really, because he'd been with Stella for years, and was used to that world. It was an eye opener though to see Kowalski in his suit, his spiky hair somewhat softer than usual, clean shaven and... well, not to put too fine a point on it, smoothly buttering up the rich and snobby as though he'd been born to it.

 

“Hey, style pig,” he grinned as Kowalski met him outside the prospective client's office buildings. Kowalski scowled, false fierce, and flipped him the finger. “Keep it in your pocket,” Ray said, managing not to laugh. “You don't want the client seeing that.”

 

“He's not the client yet.” Kowalski pointed out, careful as always, not to jinx it.

 

“He will be, when you're done with him.”

 

“Nah, I think it's the classy Italian that sells it.” Kowalski smiled graciously as they reached the receptionist, and turned on the charm.

 

And yeah, whatever it was, between the two of them, they sold it. So, just like that, there they were, working for the CEO of a clothing company to investigate counterfeit goods. 

 

“We're gonna have to take on staff,” Kowalski pointed out, later, as they ate at Botticelli's. 

 

“Yeah, I been thinking about that.”

 

“You got any ideas?”

 

“Well, it's going to sound nepotistic...”

 

“Hey,” Kowalski jabbed his fork at him. “English. I get enough go ball gook from Ben.” Ray rolled his eyes. 

 

“Stop playing dumb, Kowalski, you speak English fine.”

 

“Yeah, well, I still don't know nepywhatsit.”

 

“Oh, sorry. Er... I mean it might seem like I'm favouring my family, but Frannie's finally finished community college, and she's got all that experience at the station. She'd be good working with the public, don't you think?” Kowalski didn't say anything for a moment, and Ray felt himself tense up. Maybe he was wrong after all...

 

“Nah, that's a good idea. But, I was wondering... she's only been part time recently. What's that about? I mean, she's just started maternity leav and everything, but... I kinda wondered if she'd had a problem with work.”

 

Ray shook his head. “No, she just kept throwing up.”

 

“Hey, I'm eating!”

 

“Who knew you were so squeamish, Kowalski?”

 

“That's my line.”

 

“You gonna finish that evil pasta from outer space?”

 

“Help yourself.”

 

“So,” he said, separating the ante pasta and spearing olives, “let's say we've got Frannie, if she wants the job that is. But we'll have to see how she is with the baby first.” He bit down on an olive. Garlicky and tangy. Heaven. “She might wanna stay home after all. Other than that... we're gonna have to advertise.”

 

“Holy shit,” Kowalski froze for a moment, looking at his food, one ravioli hovering mid air, dripping sauce.

 

“What?”

 

“I think I'm a grown up.”

 

Ray laughed. “You're a Dad, you only just realised?”

 

“No, I mean... I'm a Dad, I'm a partner in a business, I'm a married man, good as, and I'm gonna be a... shit... I'm gonna be somebody's boss.” 

 

“You're gonna get tomato sauce all down your good suit, if you're not careful, that's what.”

 

“I hate this thing,” Kowalski said, glaring at it. “It's like a symbol or something. Like it's saying, 'Hey, Ray, you got good and gotten.'”

 

“Yeah, well, it looks good on you.”

 

Kowalski raised a flirty eyebrow. “You think?” Ray groaned, and threw an olive across the table. Kowalski caught it, with an evil glint in his eye. “Hey, food fight!” 

 

“You so would, wouldn't you?” Ray grabbed a bread stick from Kowalski's hand before it could go sailing across the table. “Can't take you anywhere.” At the next table a mother was pinking up, and trying to stop her children from staring. “Grown up my scrawny ass,” Ray told him. He hovered on the edge of a suitable insult, then caught Kowalski's mischievous expression.

 

He couldn't help himself. Mineral water shot out of his nose as he cracked up entirely. “I hate you, Kowalski.” Awh Jeez, he couldn't stop laughing. “I really, really hate you.”  
…

 

After lunch the rest of the day was taken up with paperwork, and figuring out a plan of action for the investigation. Worrying about staff could come later.

 

At five Ray finally finished up, and stared at the clock. “You know this is my first ever proper office day,” he told Vecchio. “Here, I mean. Up till now it's always been like shift work.”

 

“Yeah,” Vecchio slammed the filing cabinet shut, and stretched back in his seat. “That's why we need someone to help. I don't mind parking myself behind a desk, I'm not up to all that running, but I reckon you'll go crazy if you have to do a nine to five.”

 

Ray nodded, scratched his chin. He'd shaved that morning, but he could just feel the bristle roughening his skin. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it wouldn't be good. S'not just that though. It's fitting everything around Cathy. I like one of us to be home for her... I know she can stay at my parents, or over with your family, but still... If this is gonna be a regular thing I'll worry. 'Cause Fraser's hours aren't as flexible as mine.”

 

“Hey, don't worry. We'll work around it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” If he was honest, that wasn't so much what he was worried about. One day wasn't going to cause any problems. Truth was, he was worried about Fraser.

 

“What?” Vecchio was leaning over his desk now, fingers steepled together, looking concerned. Shit, the guy was psychic or something...

 

“Jeez, Vecchio, if I have to spend much more time with you, you're gonna be reading my mind for real, not just guessing stuff.”

 

“What's really wrong?”

 

“I'm serious, that's damned annoying.” He sighed, jutted his chin out adversarially. Vecchio just looked at him. After a moment Ray blew out a gust of air. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath. “Okay, okay. The usual. I'm worried about Fraser.”

 

Vecchio nodded. “He's not sleeping?”

 

“How the fuck do you do that?” Ray stood up, explosively, shoved his hands in his pockets, and glared at him. “Seriously, do you have a, er, camera in our bedroom or something? How the fuck do you know this kinda stuff? What, you know our bowel movements now?”

 

“Hey, calm down Kowalski. I just know Benny, that's all. He's ticking away, doing fine, I can see that. But he's tired. I'm not stupid. It's since that Victoria thing, isn't it?”

 

Ray sat down on his desk, feeling silly. “Yeah, okay,” he said, more calmly. “He got freaked out big time, and since then he's scared to let Cathy out of his sight. I mean, me he trusts, just about. But it's like he needs one of us to be with her all the time. You know, he took time off work today to be with her? Which is fine, it's his time, and it's not like he doesn't save up his hours. But, my Mom and Dad would have been okay with her by themselves.”

 

“They don't mind Benny stopping along for a little bit will they?” 

 

“No, but I think my Dad just wants to make a mess and tear engines apart with her. They're still building that... doomsday device or whatever it is. And I don't want them thinking Fraser doesn't trust them.” He snorted. “'Cause, thing is, he doesn't. Trust them I mean. Not just them, anyone. Thinks something terrible is gonna happen if we're not there. It's been, what... nearly four weeks.”

 

“You'll just have to explain it to your parents. Benny's gonna need a bit of time to calm down.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But, how much time, and... well, what if he doesn't?” 

 

If he'd hoped for an answer he was disappointed. Vecchio's face went blank, and distant for a moment. Then he shook his head, as though waking himself up. “I dunno, Kowalski. Bitch fucked him over. We'll just have to look out for him, that's all.”

 

“What do you mean you don't know?” He'd been hoping Vecchio would say something like, 'oh, he's done this before, give it another week and a half and he'll be right as rain.' After all, he'd known Fraser back when... what did Frannie call her? Back when 'elephant Victoria' charged through their lives. But looking at Vecchio the guy seemed as clueless as he felt. “You mean he could be running around for the rest of his life, scared this... this harpy is gonna turn up and ruin everything?”

 

Vecchio's face pinched up, painfully. “I shoulda killed her when I had the chance,” he said, quietly.

 

Oh my God, Ray thought, looking at him, shocked. It suddenly slapped him, upside the head, that the guy meant it. And it wasn't like Vecchio was a stone-cold killer. He'd seen killers, so for Vecchio to say that... That coulda been me, he thought, stunned. 'Cause I'd have tried to shoot her too. He tried to imagine how he would feel, walking through life, knowing his bullet was lodged in Fraser's back. He knew the story, of course. He'd read it in the files, when he first went undercover as Vecchio (and wasn't that a world ago). Knew she'd tried to set Vecchio up as well, knew she'd tried to pull his life down his ears. But reading the story, knowing it intellectually was a different thing from seeing it played out in front of you. He'd seen Fraser's hurt before but Vecchio's... that was a whole new world of hurt. Somehow, he hadn't expected it. Vecchio always seemed so... together. 

 

Without thinking he reached out, took Vecchio's hand, gave it a squeeze. “It's gonna be okay, Ray.”

 

“You think?” The other man laughed, withdrew his hand automatically, like he didn't want to be comforted. “Come on,” he said, brusquely. “We'll head back to your apartment. Call ahead, let Benny and Cathy know that uncle Vecchio's cooking tonight. Anna's on late shift, so I won't be missed.”

 

Ray scratched the back of his neck. It would be good for Fraser, he admitted, to have company. But looking at Vecchio, it seemed he needed it as much as Fraser. And it was a Friday, so they could make a night of it, if the guy wanted to stay over. Watch a movie, catch a game, maybe.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Ray said, casually. “That'd be cool.”

 

Shit, he thought. He'd been worried enough about Fraser. Now he had Vecchio to worry about too.

 

Vecchio was on his feet now, swinging into his coat, heading out the door all elegance and smiles. Talking rubbish again, about something or other. Bread sticks and food fights, and they should be a good role model to Cathy. But Kowalski was onto him. For the first time ever he got it. Really really got it. Victoria hadn't just messed with Fraser's head. She'd messed with Vecchio as well.


	28. Miracle Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, other than a shopping trip and a back massage, not a lot happens, but, for the boys, it happens entertainingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Sexual Content

Only another six weeks to go, Frannie thought, and it felt like forever. Felt like she'd been pregnant forever, and there was never going to be a time when she wasn't.

 

“This would look nice on you,” Anna said, holding up a maternity blouse for her inspection. They'd come in to buy baby clothes, but somehow they ended up looking at clothes for her... again.

 

“I don't know... I won't be wearing it for much longer.”

 

“You can always donate it to good-will when you're done.”

 

Frannie looked at herself in the mirror, smoothed the fabric against her chest. Anna was right. The cream colour would look good against her skin. Though, if she ended up wearing it after the baby was born, she was going to have to be careful. Maria had quickly learned to favour darker blouses, after her first born. Frannie still wasn't sure if she'd ever get over the embarrassment of being in church next to her sister, looking over, and seeing the patches where she'd leaked.

 

“Go on,” the other woman nudged her shoulder. “You know you want to.”

 

Mind you, that was what the pads were for... “Okay, okay... you've twisted my arm.” 

 

After they'd paid (Anna insisted on treating her to the blouse) and gathered up all the booties and jumpers, and the little chocolate coloured coat, Frannie bit her lip and asked the question that was bothering her.

 

“Can I just ask, is Ray all right?”

 

Anna looked at her sharply, then sighed. “I suppose you're his sister, you'll have noticed.”

 

“I notice he's crabbier than usual. He's not, uhm... he's not pissing you off, is he?”

 

“Good God no!” Anna's denial was instantaneous and utterly sincere. Frannie relaxed a little. She'd been a little bit worried that Ray was going to... well, mess things up again. 

 

“Just, I noticed he's in a bad mood recently, and I hoped everything's all right.”

 

“Everything's all right,” the taller woman said, “between us that is.” She shrugged. “I thought maybe it was a work thing, but I asked Kowalski how that's all going, and sounds like it's all going fine. It's something else.”

 

“But you don't know what?”

 

“I don't.” Anna looked at her, concern in her honey coloured eyes. “Can I just ask? Has he ever talked in his sleep?”

 

Frannie bit her lip. That took her back... “Not since he was a kid. Well, so far as I know. Why, what's he saying?”

 

Anna laughed, tried to look like she wasn't worried. “I don't know, really. Sort of mumbles.” She flicked a glance at her friend. “He was talking about Benny?”

 

“Benny?” For a moment Frannie was lost, then a suspicion woke. “What's he saying?”

 

“He said... well, he said he was sorry.”

 

“Like he was apologising to him?”

 

Anna tugged her ear, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. And... I feel guilty, because it's like he's having a private conversation, and I shouldn't be listening.”

 

“Hey, don't worry.” Frannie squeezed her arm. “I think I know what it is,” she admitted.

 

“What?”

 

“Did this all start when we had that panic about Victoria?”

 

“Oh.” Anna looked startled. “Yes, yes, I suppose it did.”

 

Jeez, Frannie thought. I'm blind as a bat... Of course this is about Victoria. She blushed. “Er... what do you know about Victoria?”

 

Understanding dawned on Anna's face. “I know Ray accidentally shot Benny... you think he's still feeling guilty about that?” She shook her head. “Of course he is.” She looked sad. “I don't suppose there's anything I can do to help.”

 

“Hey, you're helping just fine. You're there for him, aren't you.”

 

Anna smiled. “I am,” she said. 

 

“Even if he is a cranky bastard.”

 

“Even if,” she grinned sideways at Frannie. “He's my cranky bastard.”

 

Frannie relaxed. Whatever else might be going on in Ray's head, at least she knew he was in good hands.  
…

 

“Fuck's sake, I'm sick of it,” Ray snapped. “If you don't get a decent night's sleep, I'll tie you to the bed.”

 

“Is that an offer?”

 

“Stop kidding around. It's not funny.”

 

Fraser sat next to him on the edge of bed, and sighed. “It's not like I'm doing this deliberately.”

 

“Look, I hate to say this, but er, you should maybe see a doctor. Get some sleeping tablets, something.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous, Ray, it's not that bad.”

 

“How many hours have you slept in the last week? Be honest?”

 

Fraser said nothing.

 

“And you've stopped running.” Ray was pretty sure that Fraser had stopped running because he was tired enough that he was a danger to himself on the road. Certainly his driving, never very good in the city at the best of times, had deteriorated enough that he had simply stopped risking it.

 

“Okay, okay. You've made your point.”

 

“Are you gonna see a doctor?”

 

“Would you?”

 

Ray paused. Hard to say... Fraser nodded, grimly, as though his failure to respond was response enough.

 

“I thought as much.” Wearily, he leant over to pull off his socks, and hitched a breath.

 

“Yeah, well, at least see a doctor about your back.”

 

“My back's fine.”

 

“Like hell it is.”

 

Fraser shot him a snippy glance, then took refuge in Mountie mode. “Really, there is no need for profanity, Ray.”

 

“If I want to be fucking profane I'll be fucking profane.” His fist bumped off his knee, and he ground his teeth. “Fuck it.” He snapped to his feet, and slammed into the en suite, as much to catch his breath and calm down as to use the facilities. 

 

Oh great. Fucking marvellous. He hoped he hadn't woken Cathy... He waited for a long moment straining his ears. Finally he heard her chuckle in her sleep, and relaxed.

 

When he stepped back into the bedroom, Fraser was out of his clothes, and moving stiffly, trying to pull on his long johns. And the sight of him, vulnerable and naked, Ray's anger dropped away.

 

“Hey, Ben,” he said, gently. “Just lie down. I'll rub your back.”

 

Fraser sighed, dropped his head, but didn't move. Ray moved alongside him. “It's not a come on, I promise. I'll even keep my clothes on, if you like. Just let me do this.”

 

“Okay,” Fraser sighed, and lay, stiffly on his side. With a wince he rolled onto his front.

 

Shit, maybe that's another reason why he's stopped running, Ray thought, giving himself a mental head slap. Way to go, Kowalski, some detective you are. Poor guy's back is killing him.

 

“Give me a minute,” he said. “I've got baby oil in the medicine cabinet.” Fraser grunted, and closed his eyes.

 

“Okay,” Ray sat alongside him, again, warming the oil in his hands. “Tell me if this hurts.”

 

Oh, that's bad, he thought, as his hands rested on either side of Fraser's spine. His whole back felt like a block of wood. “See I've got my work cut out,” he said, conversationally. 

 

“If it's too much trouble for you...”

 

“Don't be an ass,” Ray leant into his task, starting with the shoulders. It was probably best to work up (or rather down) to the root of the problem. “Just lie there and look pretty.” Fraser laughed into the pillow. 

 

“I thought this wasn't a come on.”

 

“It isn't,” Ray said, tersely. With the best will in the world, he was pretty damned tense. Fraser had been insultingly flaccid the last couple of weeks, and it was only getting worse. Yeah, he had his reasons, but it wasn't good for a guy's self esteem. “It's pally, pally acious... that's not it. Pally tetnus?”

 

“Palliative?”

 

“Yeah, that's it. Palliative care.”

 

“I think you only pretend not to know words.”

 

“I think you make half of yours up.”

 

Fraser grunted, and laughed. Ray smiled. Those were nice noises his man was making, and his shoulder muscles were warming up and loosening under his hands. A good massage took time, and he was working up a sweat himself. He moved down in tiny increments, still pushing his weight into the job, enjoying the appreciative sounds he was kneading out of Fraser. His fingers and wrists were getting kind of sore, but it was worth it to hear Fraser groan. 

 

“Is that good,” he asked, knowing the answer. 

 

“Very,” Fraser replied, woozily. Huh, Ray thought, feeling pleased with himself. He sounds like he's back on pain killers. Any minute now he's going to start talking about cartoons... 

 

Despite himself he felt his cock twitch. Down, Fido, he thought, and bit his tongue. Wouldn't do to laugh. Fraser would ask him what the joke was, and he'd promised not to start anything...

 

Idiot.

 

Finally he got to the small of Fraser's back. Fraser let out a sharp little noise that was definitely not a moan of pleasure. “Hey, Frase, that hurt?”

 

For once Ben was honest. “Yes.”

 

He dipped his head, kissed the scar. “You want me to carry on?”

 

“Yes,” Fraser whispered.

 

“I'll be gentle,” he said. Carefully he matched deeds to words, and started to massage around the tender area using only his thumbs. Once he had pushed too hard with his hands against Fraser's back, and he'd actually felt the metal shift. Fraser had cried out and blanched. For a horrible moment he thought he had done something irreparable, but fortunately the moment passed. As Ray eased the muscles around the old injury he wondered just how often Fraser's back actually did ache. Was it a dull background thing between flare ups? Was it so much a part of his life that Fraser didn't even notice it most of the time?

 

Gradually he could feel the last tense muscles in the small of Fraser's back loosening. He slapped a little more oil onto his hands, and started smoothing his palms in gentle circles on either side of the spine. At this point he didn't think he needed to massage any more, since Fraser finally seemed utterly relaxed, but he didn't want to stop touching him yet. Eventually he sighed, and moved back.

 

“Don't stop,” Fraser said, sleepily. Ray smiled, and started rubbing again, even though he was getting pretty damned frustrated with this massage. He shoulda realised he'd get turned on by this. There was no getting away from it now. He was straining in his pants. If he'd got undressed there was no way Fraser wouldn't have noticed.

 

Still. He could keep this up (oh yeah, great Kowalski, 'keep it up' why don't you) till Fraser finally fell asleep, if that was what it took. And then... well, maybe he'd go sort himself out in the shower.

 

Fraser gave an appreciative moan, then lifted his head. “You realise we have a problem.”

 

“Yeah. A stubborn Mountie.”

 

“No... I mean, you made a promise I don't want you to keep.” 

 

Ray's mouth quirked. Fraser had a hungry expression on his face. There was no mistaking that look. No resisting it either. He couldn't resist teasing though.

 

“Oh yeah?” He played it dumb. “What was that?”

 

“Well, you promised you wouldn't start anything. Unfortunately, something has started all by itself.”

 

“And, what am I supposed to do about it?”

 

“Well, you could help a buddy out.”

 

“What am I supposed to help you with?”

 

“I have an affliction.” 

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“And I thought some palliative care might be in order.”

 

“Hmm. Like this?” He leant next to Fraser, slid one hand under his hips. “Oh,” he said. “I see your problem.” Fraser shuddered in his hand. “You like that?”

 

“Uhm... your hand...”

 

“What?”

 

“It's...” Fraser's eyes closed, and he dropped his head onto the pillow. Ray looked at his profile, possessively, and squeezed his dick. Fraser sucked in a breath, and bit his lip.

 

“You like that, yeah?”

 

Fraser nodded, blindly. Ray started to move his hand around his cock. It slid smoothly and silkily within the oily clench of his fist. Fraser moaned, and Ray changed his rhythm, then changed it again. Fraser reached out with one hand, blindly snatching at Ray's shirt, grasping it, like he was hanging off a cliff. The other hand was clutching the pillow. He began to hump into Ray's fist, like he couldn't help it. Huh, looked like that massage had really helped his back. Ray dropped a hand onto his naked ass, and continued the massage, first one buttock, then the other, slowed down with his fist, then moved to the base of Fraser's cock, and clenched.

 

“Don't,” Fraser groaned. “Don't stop.”

 

“I'm not stopping,” he said, “I'm pacing ourselves.”

 

“Don't pace.” He let out a hiss. “It's torture.”

 

“Maybe I like torturing you.”

 

“Sadist.”

 

“Yeah? Just lie there and suffer. I wanna look at you.”

 

Fraser opened his eyes, looked at him looking at him, groaned, and closed his eyes again. 

 

Holy shit, Ray thought. That man's beautiful. Ben's beautiful. And he's lying naked with his cock in my fist...

 

He started moving his hand again, so turned on it was nearly unbearable. Everything about this was a turn on. His slick fist, Fraser's little moans, even the fact that he was fully clothed, and Fraser was bare arsed and gloriously naked. He watched his sleeve move up and down over his wrist as he stroked Fraser, and slowed down again. Okay, it was torture, for him too, but some tortures you wanted to last.

 

“Bastard,” Fraser muttered, and started humping into the circle of his fist. The shock of Fraser cursing sent a spark of lust straight to his cock. His balls were aching with it. He groaned. Fraser opened his eyes, looked at him lustfully. “You too?” Ray nodded, breathless. Okay, his cover was well and truly blown.

 

“Guess you're onto me now,” he gasped, "figured out my secret."

 

Fraser smiled, slowed in his rutting, and moved his hand to the bulge in Ray's pants, started rubbing up against it, giving his own massage through the still zippered fly. Ray heard himself whimpering, because that was nearly too much, it was so good it nearly hurt. Somehow he was lying down on his own side, opposite Fraser, who rolled to his side, so that they were breathing right into each other's faces. Ray looked down, stared at Fraser's cock and his hand wrapped round it. Whatever that noise was that he made, Fraser obviously liked it. He shoved himself right up to Ray, grasped one demin clad thigh between his own, and started humping. Ray grasped him with both hands rubbing slick against his back, feeling the hard length of Fraser's cock seeking friction against his leg, and his own trapped hard-on rubbing up against Fraser's shoving, thrusting thigh. They clutched each other tight with their legs, clenched around each other, squeezing so hard there would be bruises in the morning.

 

“Oh, oh, oh,” he buried his head in Fraser's shoulder and bit the words down, cursing as quietly as he could. Fraser came against him, biting his neck, and at the sharp pain and the feel of semen spreading on the leg of his jeans Ray shuddered once, and came hard in his pants.

 

Fraser laughed, then there were lips on his lips. Ray kissed, gratefully, sinking into warmth, swallowing tongue. Eventually he remembered to breathe.

 

“Thank you,” Fraser murmured, against his teeth.

 

“For what?”

 

Fraser stroked his face, smiling. “My back doesn't hurt any more.”

 

“So that's what that was. A miracle cure.”

 

“Uh huh,” Fraser's eyes were drifting shut.

 

“I'll just be a minute,” Ray smiled, and kissed him as he stood. “Got to get out of these clothes.”

 

“Uh huh...”

 

By the time he got back from the bathroom Fraser was fast asleep. Ray smiled, slid in next to him, and covered them both with the blanket.


	29. Food Food, Belly Belly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayV cooks for Anna, Willie is a bit of a giant who contends with drunken spiders, and the Rays go on a secret mission.

Damned photos, Ray thought, staring at them for clues. Okay, so in this one Cathy was about eight months, which would make it about November. So those trees... Pity he couldn't ask Benny to help him with this. He was the expert when it came to foliage. Still, he was pretty sure that was down south. Way south, maybe Mexico.

 

So, Victoria had been in Mexico when Cathy was eight months old. He sat back for a moment, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. There hadn't been much help in Cathy's medical records. Photocopies, every damned one of them, with the details of doctors, hospital names etc carefully removed. She couldn't hide the fact that some of the notes were in Spanish and Portugese though. Looked like she favoured warm climes. Cathy spoke French though, so probably they'd been as far as Canada.

 

If this had been a regular manhunt he would have questioned the nearest witness, the kid... but he wasn't going to say a word to Cathy about this. Not a word to Benny. Maybe he should bring Kowalski in on it though...

 

No. That wouldn't be fair. You couldn't ask a guy to keep secrets from his lover after all.

 

He opened his eyes again, stared at the photos. Wasn't that what he was doing? Keeping secrets from Anna? Yeah, what could he say though. 'I'm obsessively tracking down the bitch who nearly wrecked my friend, and if I find her I'm gonna...' He didn't know what he'd do. 

 

Anna would be home in about an hour, and he should clear the table, start dinner. It felt wrong to be taking this stuff to her apartment, but it wasn't like he could leave it round the office. He did share it with another detective, after all, and Kowalski had been giving him odd looks lately. 

 

This was playing hell with his stomach.

 

He stood up, collected the papers together, dropped them in his briefcase, locked it. Think of something else. Anything else. Okay, so his appetite was a bit off these days, but that didn't mean he couldn't cook for her. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and started with as complicated a recipe as he could manufacture from Anna's depleted stores, and the groceries he had brought with him. The woman had many virtues, he thought, but the fine art of haute cuisine was not among them. She'd as soon open a tin of soup as have a proper meal. He felt himself starting to relax as he rolled out puff pastry (and God, Ma would flay him alive if she knew he was using the store bought stuff). Arborio rice, good, he thought, and started the pan to boil. He let chopped onions slide onto the frying pan, turned the heat down low, let it gently simmer in olive oil. Squeezed lemons into a cup of white wine, poured it over the onions. Damn, he thought, as the fat splashed, and stood back. Nah, that's okay. His shirt was fine. Stock, he reminded himself, and rolled his eyes. He hadn't done the stock. He was going to have to use one of those horrible cube things... no, hang on. There was that bouillon powder instead. That would be a little bit better.

 

While the smell of onions spread through the apartment he started rummaging in the cupboards, pulled out the roasting pan, lined it with tin foil, brushed it with olive oil. She didn't have a pastry brush, so he used kitchen paper, scowling at the waste as the oil soaked into it like blotting paper. The rice was ready now, so he drained it, poured it into the frying pan. Shook it quickly and lightly, then very carefully separated it all through with a fork, so the rice stayed fluffy. He started scooping the now golden mixture into the pastry. He poked his head into the fridge, sniffed, pulled out the salmon, topped and tailed, and smiled. It had been sitting in its marinade for a while now. Should be good.

 

Deftly he slid the fish onto the bed of rice, then covered it with the rest of the rissoto. He folded the ends of the pastry over each other, split little gashes along the top, as vent holes, and popped the whole thing in the oven.

 

By the time Anna was home the salad was made, the table was set, one glass of wine poured for her, and sparkling elder flower cordial for him. 

 

“Wow, that smells good,” she said, as he met her at the door, and kissed her nose. She turned, letting him remove her coat, then turned all the way back round into his arms, and returned the kiss. 

 

“Hmm. So do you.”

 

She tasted of coffee, and her hands, as she stroked his face, were rough, and smelled of hospital disinfectant. He loved that smell. A doctor smell. A looking after other people smell.

 

“You look tired,” she said. 

 

“Yeah? So do you. Come on, get yourself in here woman, sit down and let me pamper you.”

 

“What if I want to pamper you instead?”

 

“We'll have to pamper each other then. First things first.”

 

“Oh yeah? What would that be?”

 

“Like Cathy says.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow, then laughed. They spoke together. “'Food food, belly belly.'”

 

And even though he wasn't particularly hungry, dinner, if he said so himself, was very good.  
...

 

Willie really was turning into a fine young man, Fraser thought, as he watched him helping Cathy with her writing. He remembered the days when he'd helped Willie with his homework, and smiled. Willie did still ask for occasional help, but he'd got to a stage where he was more than able to manage his own studies. There were times when he was as proud of Willie as if the lad had been his own child. Watching him now with Cathy warmed his heart.

 

“Hey, Fraser,” Willie looked up at him, “can I ask you a question?”

 

“Yes, Son?” The endearment popped out, as it occasionally did, and he pretended not to notice Willie's shy smile. 

 

“Serious question this. Don't you have something a little less, er, how can I put this... boring for Cathy to copy?”

 

“There's nothing boring about Il Penseroso. As I recall, Willie, you yourself eventually learned to appreciate the finer points of Milton.”

 

“Yeah, but, I wasn't five at the time. And you could at least have picked l'Allegro. I mean, this would pretty depressing, if she knew what on earth it meant.”

 

“It didn't do me any harm,” Fraser said huffily. “I think Ray's been a bad influence on you.”

 

Willie snorted. “What, you had to copy out this stuff when you were five?”

 

Fraser considered the question, and conceded the point. “Actually, now that I think of it, I was six. My mother helped me write letters to my father, but I don't think she was overly concerned with my handwriting, so long as it was legible.”

 

“Yeah, well, you could frame Cathy's handwriting,” Willie said, exaggerating slightly, “it's better than mine.”

 

“Your handwriting's not that bad, Willie,” Fraser said, encouragingly. “Just somewhat eccentric.”

 

“It looks like a drunk spider fell in some ink and had an epileptic fit all over the paper.”

 

“As I say. Somewhat eccentric.”

 

“I don't mind Il Pensy ensy,” Cathy said, dutifully. “I like all the big words. Though I don't think Mr Milton could spell.”

 

“I thought you might like to copy something a bit more modern,” Willie said. “Or, at least read it. What do you think, Fraser?” Willie looked at him with an eloquent appeal on his face, and fished a book out of his pocket.

 

“Roald Dahl,” Fraser raised his eyebrows. “I'm unfamiliar with his work.”

 

“Go on, Fraser, I'm sure she'll love it.”

 

Fraser flipped the book open, started skating through the text as quickly as he could. A smile tugged at his lips. Frobscottle and snozzcumbers. The pictures were rather fun too. “I'm sure she will. Thank you Willie.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“At least finish the couplet.”

 

“Daddy, what do you think I am? An idiot?” Cathy gave him one of her 'Daddy's being silly' looks. “Of course I'll finish the couplet, or my brain will feel lopsided all day.”

 

“You see?” Willie was laughing. “That's what you did to me too. You're a menace, Fraser. You break people's brains.”

 

“Blame my Grandmother,” Fraser said, fondly, remembering.

 

Cathy changed hands, and shook out her arm. Idly Willie took her wrist and massaged it. “Writer's cramp,” she informed him. “I want a computer.”

 

“Yeah? So do I,” said Willie. He shot Fraser a mocking glance. “I'll have to steal one.” Fraser shook his head. 

 

“I'm making hot chocolate,” he said. “Cathy, when you've finished your writing, do you want to read to Willie and me?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, and Fraser smiled at how much more relaxed her language was becoming. “So long as Willie reads too. Then we can both do the voices.”

 

“I'll be the giant,” Willie declared.

 

“That makes sense,” Cathy smiled. “You're a bit of a giant anyway. You're taller than Daddy and Ray.”

 

“He is not!”

 

“Just a little bit,” Cathy insisted.

 

Fraser shook his head. “Arrest a boy for purse snatching, and you pay, and pay, and pay.”

 

Willie crossed his eyes at him, and sniggered into his hand.  
…

 

“So where'd you get 'em?” Ray stood in the doorway and glared at Vecchio.

 

“Where'd I get what?”

 

“The pictures, dumb ass. What, you thought I wouldn't find out?”

 

“Oh. Shit.”

 

“Yeah. Shit.” Vecchio shuffled on his chair, and looked hunted. “So, where'd you get 'em?”

 

“It's not what you think.”

 

“I think you're trying to find out where the hell Victoria is so you can get the bitch arrested.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Or take a hit out on her,” he added, as if it was a joke.

 

“I wouldn't do that,” Vecchio muttered. “Benny'd never get over it.”

 

“But you would if you could.”

 

Vecchio shot a poisonous glance at him. “Don't think I didn't think about it, but no, I wouldn't. I'm not gonna let her fuck me up that much.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” Ray relaxed a little, leant against the door frame. “So, you didn't answer my question. Where'd you get the pictures?”

 

“Actually, Benny gave them to me. Well, not me. Ma. He didn't want them in the house.” Vecchio scraped his chair back, and stood. “Can't say I blame him.”

 

“So, you swiped 'em off your Ma? Nice.”

 

“I put back the originals.”

 

Ray nodded. Vecchio went and stood by the window, with his back to him. “I just thought... you know we've got Cathy's medical notes, in case...”

 

“In case anything ever happens to me and Fraser. Yeah. I know.”

 

“So, I thought, put the two together, we could find out where she's been. And if there's a pattern, we could find out where she's going.”

 

“You get anything?”

 

Vecchio looked over his shoulder, a sharp glance. Okay, Ray had to admit it. He was interested.

 

“I drew out what I got on a map.”

 

“Yeah? Let's see it.”

 

Vecchio nodded, tersely, turned to his desk, twiddled with it.

 

“Hey, shit, Vecchio, how come you get a secret compartment and I don't?”

 

“'Cause I'm a suspicious two-faced bastard, and I ordered the furniture.”

 

“Jerk.” Ray shook his head, admiringly. Vecchio was something else. All that time undercover with the mob had brought out a secretive streak. Or maybe paranoia. “What else are you hiding?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“That's what you'd say if you were hiding something.”

 

“Here,” Vecchio ignored the comment, unfolding the map across the top of his desk. Ray went around to take a better look at it.

 

“That's pretty... comprehensive.”

 

“Yeah. I did my best. The red ones, I'm sure of. The green ones, I'm not so sure.”

 

“You know,” Ray pondered, “it's kinda funny. She seems to have stuck near to big cities for the most part... I'd have thought she'd want to go off the grid.”

 

“Well, cities can be good places to hide, if you know what you're doing. And she definitely knows what she's doing.” Vecchio stood staring at the map, eyes unreadable. “But I think the main reason she stuck to those cities was because of the hospitals. If you look at them, they all had decent departments for neurosurgery.”

 

Ray stared at the map silently, processing this information. “Holy shit,” he said, when it sunk in, “looks like the bitch actually does love Cathy.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Maybe? She is her mother, after all.”

 

Vecchio's lips twisted, as though he'd bitten a lemon. “I'm surprised she didn't hatch spiders,” he said. “She didn't deserve Cathy.”

 

Ray couldn't disagree with that, though it gave him chills to hear Vecchio so vicious. “How'd she afford the hospital treatments,” he asked.

 

“Yeah, I wondered about that too.” The other man shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked back to the window. For a moment he seemed like he was going to say something, then he went quiet.

 

“So? You got any ideas?” 

Vecchio let out a sigh, then lent forward, put his head on the window pane. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

Ray waited. Whatever it was, it didn't seem good.

 

“Okay, if I tell you this, you gotta promise not to tell Benny? 'Cause he don't need to know this shit. Not until I'm a hundred percent sure. And I'm only...” a pause, “only ninety percent sure.”

 

“What? Fuck, Vecchio, spit it out. What is it?”

 

“Some of these places she stayed at, well, three... there were incidents around the time she was staying there.”

 

“Incidents?”

 

“Yeah. Incidents. One guy called in complaining of blackmail, another guy's wife was arrested for assaulting him, and...”

 

“What? Come on, Vecchio, I'm gonna die of old age here, or have a damned heart attack. What aren't you telling me?”

 

“Well, both guys... they'd met this high class hooker, at a hotel.”

 

“Hooker? Oh, Jesus. Is that how she made her money?”

 

Vecchio looked almost apologetic. “Something like. She'd do the dirty, then she'd put the squeeze on 'em. Milked 'em of their money. The one guy decided he'd had enough, and reported her. She'd taken him for thousands and thousands. The other guy, his wife found out when he started raiding their joint bank account. And she went kinda crazy and put him in hospital. The third guy...”

 

“What?”

 

“The third guy ended up dead.”

 

Ray's gut clenched like a fist. “Oh, you are fucking kidding me.”

 

“No. 'Fraid not. In a hotel room. And the timing fits...”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, the first guy reported the blackmail, and next day Cathy... she was being called Alice then, but she was an Alice Pinsent... anyway, this girl Alice Pinsent was just under a year old, with spina bifida, and she had an appointment next day at the hospital. But she didn't turn up for it. A week later they'd moved on... well, I think it was them. 'Cause, well, you know Pinsent is Benny's mother's maiden name. And the birthday matches. I mean, what are the odds? And then... you see them?” He turned back to the map and pointed. “Here, here and here. All these hospitals had a patient, same birthday as our Cathy, didn't stay long. Then this one, in New York, that's where the guy's wife pulled a gun on him. Week after that, a little girl, Cassandra Vecchio, missed an appointment. So, they'd moved on.”

 

“Shit.” There was no way it was a coincidence that the little girl's name was 'Vecchio.'

 

“Then, we've got this murder victim, in a hotel in Toronto. And four days after that, Cathy's dumped at the twenty seventh precinct with a note saying who she is, a bunch of papers and medical files.”

 

“Must have been a hell of a job tracking all this down,” Ray said, with respect. He stared at the map again. Victoria had moved about, not just over state lines, but even into different countries. South America twice, Canada three times. “How'd you get all this? 'Cause, the medical stuff was all... bowdler, bolly... balderised?”

 

“Bowdlerised? Abridged... shit, I don't know the damned word. Benny would. But yeah, she chopped out as much identifying detail as she could.”

 

“And it can't have been easy, getting private hospital records. Must have taken some real acting to get that done.”

 

“Well,” Vecchio managed to look modest. “Once I figured out the first hospital she'd been to, I worked out who her doctor must have been. 'Cause we do know where she was born, which made it easier. So when I phoned round the hospitals, I pretended to be her specialist. I mean, I had the medical details right in front of me, and X-rays. I could even fax 'em the X-rays. You don't get much better than that. So, yeah... they opened right up. Anyone could have done it.”

 

Ray pursed his lips, considering. He might have worked out the same scheme, he thought, but it still took some smooth talking to carry it off. “No wonder you were great undercover,” he said. Vecchio almost smiled. Ray scowled. “And no wonder you've been walking around like death warmed up.”

 

At that Vecchio humphed, waved a hand dismissively. “How's Benny holding up anyway?”

 

“He's doing a bit better. Still not sleeping so good, but he's not panicking every minute of the day.”

 

“Good. Good... let's keep it that way.”

 

Ray stared at the map. “You know,” he said, regretfully, “I'm not sure this helps us. I mean, there was a pattern, a kind of pattern. But now that she doesn't have Cathy to worry about, she can go to ground a bit more. I mean, now she doesn't have to stick close to hospitals she could go anywhere. She could go to fucking Europe for all we know.”

 

“Yeah,” Vecchio fierce glare was fixed on the map, as though he was going to bore holes through it with his eyes. “Yeah. I suppose she could.”

 

“But you don't think so?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why's that?”

 

“Well, because the only pattern is, we know she cares for Cathy. She risked a lot to look after her.”

 

“What are you saying?” Ray felt a chill, as though the window was open.

 

“She might be keeping an eye on her.”

 

“You mean, she might be somewhere close?”

 

“Yeah.” Vecchio sounded weary, tired to death. He brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes, and rubbed. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, Fraser's methods of schooling are not completely unheard of! My father taught me to improve my handwriting by copying Milton, yes, when I was five years old. (He waited till my brother was six, and my brother, being more determined than I was, talked him down from Il Penseroso to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.) My son is ambidextrous, and still swaps hands when he gets writer's cramp, but I never did insist he copied out Milton. Perhaps if I had his handwriting would not look, as he puts it, like the staggerings of a drunken spider!


	30. Not a 'Fight' Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which RayV talks in his sleep, Fraser learns an unwelcome secret, the boys have a shouting match, and Cathy reads faces.

There was no getting away from it. The whole Victoria thing had stalled. Even with Kowalski helping him now, all they managed to do was fill in the gaps. Between them they worked out exactly where she had been, pretty much what she had been doing. (More disturbingly, who she had been doing.) But after dropping Cathy off at the 27th Precinct, it seemed like the woman really had dropped off the face of the earth. Finally.

 

He wished he could believe it. 

 

Eventually Anna said something.

 

“Honey,” she murmured in the darkness, before the alarm went off. “I know you're worried about Victoria coming back, but it won't help if you make yourself sick.”

 

There was a lurch in his chest. What a way to start the day... He hadn't given any sign, had he? He thought he was better at undercover stuff than that. Better at keeping secrets... 

 

Anna switched on the side lamp, looked at him, sadly, and placed a hand on his face. She didn't stroke, just rested it on his cheek. Spoke quietly. “You talk in your sleep, darling.” 

 

Oh, Jeez... He closed his eyes, and rolled away from her touch, covered his face. Ashamed. What the hell had he been saying? Thank God he'd slept alone at Vegas. That kinda thing could get a guy killed.

 

You're not in Vegas any more.

 

God. Godammit. Sometimes it felt like... felt like Vegas was in him. His hands were shaking. “Stop it Vecchio” he hissed at himself. Damn. She musta heard that. She'd see that... she'd see that his shoulders were shaking. He groaned. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

“Ray...” He felt an arm reach out to him, felt her moving toward him, to offer an embrace.

 

“Excuse me,” he said, distantly surprised by how gruff his voice was. He pulled himself out of bed, went to the bathroom. Privacy, he needed some damned privacy. Stepped into the shower.

 

It was only when the water was running that he realised he was still in his pyjamas.

 

At some point, he realised, he would have to move. Make some kind of excuses, try to pretend it was okay. He slid down the wall, and sat there, in the shower's thrum and rush. As though he was behind a waterfall, a curtain of noise. The water fell around him like rain, hissed and drowned out all other sound. Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Help. Somebody, help. He rested his head on his knees, wrapped his arms over his head. 

 

There was no help. He laughed, and it was drowned out, spinning down the drain. This was way past pretending. This wasn't okay.  
…

Fraser had just finished up at the Consulate, was locking its doors, when Anna came lightly up the steps.

 

“Oh, hello Anna,” he said, attempting not to sound overly formal. He had been used to her in her professional capacity for so long that he was still struggling not to call her 'doctor.'

 

“Hey, Benny,” she said, and smiled. He relaxed a little. Her use of 'Benny', his first Ray's affectionate name for him, put him at ease. “I wondered if I could talk to you?”

 

“Certainly,” he said. “I was going to go for a run, but if you don't mind walking? Or are you parked somewhere? I can walk you to your car.” To be honest, he was glad not to have to start his run just yet. He had been out of practice for some time, was only now starting to get back into exercise. He was aware that he was woefully indolent, but even so... Besides which, Anna was charming, and he was always glad to see her.

 

“Thanks, that would be...” she trailed off, then cleared her throat. “My car's this way. I just wanted... five minutes, is that okay?”

 

“Yes,” he said, concerned. The woman seemed unaccountably nervous. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean... I don't know.” She took a deep breath. “No.”

 

Fraser put his hand on her arm, stopped and turned. She stopped too. “What's wrong?”

 

She faced him with a direct gaze. “It's Ray. I'm worried about Ray.”

 

Oh Lord. He cast about in his mind for any symptoms he might have missed... There was the occasional shortness in Ray's breath, from the lung damage, there was the slight weakness in his arm from the first time he was shot... there was the ulcerative problem that had been dogging him ever since Vegas...

 

Ray had been pale, recently. Maybe anaemic? “Ulcer,” he said. “Please don't tell me he has a stomach ulcer.”

 

“No, no.” She shook her head. “I thought it might be that too," she admitted, "so I did bring him in for blood tests a couple of weeks ago. No, his health is okay.”

 

“So, what is it?”

 

“Well, I figure you know more about this than anyone else. More than Kowalski even... I mean, your Ray.”

 

“They're both my Ray. I mean, I love them both. How can I help?”

 

“It's to do with that Victoria thing. You know he's been investigating, trying to find out where she might be...”

 

Fraser froze inside, but with what felt like a hundred years of discipline kept his consternation from his face. She continued.

 

“Well, I think he's stuck. In the investigation I mean. I've told him, maybe he can't find her because she's nowhere to be found. She could be in France or China for all we know. And he needs to relax, let it go. He can't spend the rest of his life worrying like this. But... he can't seem to help himself. If he keeps on like this, he's going to make himself sick. He's not sleeping, not eating properly. I wondered if you could do anything to reassure him? Because coming from you, he might listen.”

 

Fraser nodded stiffly. “Yes, yes. I'll talk to him. I'm sorry... I didn't know he was worrying like this.”

 

“Well, I thought if anyone would understand, you would.”

 

“I understand,” he said, and attempted to smile reassurance at her. He saw a doubt cross her face, as though his expression wasn't quite as convincing as he'd hoped. “Don't worry. I'll talk to him.”  
…

 

“Stanley,” his mother called, and Ray turned to her and smiled. He'd given up trying to get her to call him Ray. Now that he had Cathy he sorta understood it. Every time she looked at him, she saw her little baby, and her little baby had always been a Stanley, or a Stan. Okay, so he was a grown man, and sometimes he felt like she still saw him in diapers, but he got it now. It was even kinda cute.

 

“Hey, Mom.” He stood up, and brushed the dust from his jeans. The GTO was up on blocks, and his Dad was under it, with Cathy lying on his belly. The two of them would be busy for a while, Cathy hitting things with a screwdriver, and feeling like an engineer, while his Dad unobtrusively kept her from doing too much damage. He loved the GTO, but he loved Cathy more, so he was prepared to let her make a bit of a mess.

 

“Fraser's on the phone,” his Mom said, holding out the handset. “Sounds important.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, “I'll take it in the kitchen.”

 

Before he even got his greeting out, Fraser was talking... no, scratch that, yelling down the phone.

 

“Why the hell didn't you tell me you and Vecchio were investigating Victoria?”

 

Oh... crap. “Er, Fraser, I just kinda...”

 

“Don't tell me you didn't know. If Ray was investigating something, then I would expect you to know about it. You are partners after all.” There was a nasty weight to the word 'partners', and Ray felt something snap.

 

“Hey, don't use partners at me like it's a dirty word. Yeah, we're business partners, yeah, we're friends. But I only found out by accident, and I didn't want to mess you up about it...”

 

“Don't bullshit me, I'm up to my neck in fucking bullshit. You didn't want to mess me up? Don't you think it's a bit late for that?”

 

Ray was practically burning with the desire to yell back, but Fraser was swearing. Fraser was swearing, and that was so not good.

 

“Ben, I'm sorry.” He closed his eyes, forcing himself to sound calm by an effort of pure will. “I didn't know what to say, you know? How to say it? And we thought, if we found her, then she'd get locked up, and we could all feel safe again...”

 

“Safe? You want me to feel safe?”

 

“Yeah, 'course I do. Jeez, you make it sound like that's a bad thing.”

 

“How can I feel safe, if I can't trust anyone? Vecchio's my best friend, you're my lover, my partner... if I can't trust you, what's left?”

 

Ray closed his eyes. Counted his breath. Calm, speak calm. Like Cathy's had a nightmare. “Okay. Ben? I want you to just listen to yourself. Vecchio and me, we were trying to look after you, that's all.”

 

“Look after me? What am I? A stray dog you picked up?”

 

“Fuck's sake,” the words blurted out of him, with a flash of temper. “You're doing it again. Grow up, Fraser. You know we were looking out for you. We just want that bitch off the streets, so you can get a decent night's sleep. Why's that a bad thing?”

 

“You don't know her,” Fraser said grimly. “Did it ever occur to you what she might do to you if you did actually catch up with her?”

 

“Is that why you never tracked her down? You were scared?” Didn't sound like Fraser, but...

 

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a derisory laugh, tight and bitter. “I wasn't scared.”

 

Shit... Ray felt a question turn to ashes on his tongue. Something he had wondered for a long time. Why hadn't Fraser, expert hunter that he was, who'd track a criminal across the frozen tundra, who always got his man, never gone after Victoria himself? 

 

He realised, with a sickening certainty, that he already knew the answer. Just hadn't wanted to admit it was true.

 

Before he could stop himself, he said it. “You... didn't go looking for her, because... Oh, Jesus, Fraser, you bastard.” He blinked furiously as the room went blurry. Stupid fuck. He wasn't going to cry, not even with nobody looking. His voice grew firmer. “You didn't go looking for her, because you love her. That's it, isn't it? You still love her.”

 

He hung on in silence for a long moment, listening to Fraser breathe. Then, with an abrupt click, the line went dead. Ray stared at the phone in his hand.

 

Fuck.  
…

 

Daddy hadn't come home when it was Cathy's bedtime, and Ray was sad. He was pretending that he wasn't sad, but she could see it. Poor Ray.

 

“Is Daddy all right?”

 

“Yeah, sweet knees,” Ray tucked her in carefully. “He's just busy. He'll be home soon.”

 

“Really?” 

 

“Really.”

 

Cathy sucked her thumb, and stared at Ray. “You can't lie with your face,” she said.

 

“Er... what?”

 

“I mean, like Daddy. You know when his face does this.” She pulled out her thumb, and pulled her Daddy's 'mask' face.

 

“Oh...” Ray still looked sad, but he nearly smiled. “Yeah, I know that one.”

 

“But you do this.” She reflected back his sad face, then dropped it, and felt her own lip tremble. “So, you're sad, but you won't say why.”

 

“I'm... awh, honey, you're too clever.” He stroked her hair. “Your Daddy and me disagreed about something.”

 

“You mean, you had a fight?”

 

“Not a 'fight' fight,” he said, and laughed. “We didn't hit each other.”

 

“Good. I don't like it when people shout and hit.”

 

“You ever seen that, hedgehog?” Cathy stuck all her fingers in her mouth, and nodded. “I'm sorry.” He kissed her. “You want me to stay in here tonight? I can sleep in the chair.

 

She nodded again, and snuffled. She didn't think she'd ever get to sleep.

 

Of course, she did. She always did. But when she was frightened she couldn't stay asleep.

 

Every time she woke up, though, Ray was there. The first time he was slumped down low, so his head was next to her night light and he could read a book. The second time he was curled up like a snail in its shell, and the third time he was sprawled like a raggy doll with his head hanging over the back of the chair. After that he was awake again, rubbing his neck, and he grinned and tucked her in. And after that he was asleep again, with his head on her mattress.

 

Then it was morning, and Daddy still hadn't come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the angstiness of this chapter. Victoria brings out the bad in people, sadly.


	31. Guarding the Perimeter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fraser patrols in the dark, RayK wants to kick his head in, Cathy wants to grow gills, and RayV takes a breath.

He missed his father. He didn't think of it often. Not since Cathy. His days had become so full, his life much happier than he would have imagined. Sometimes when he saw Cathy with Ray's Dad he would envy the man for his relationship with his granddaughter, remembering his own father's constant (and extremely frustrating) suggestions that he continue the family line. At the time he had regretfully given up on the idea of children. Yet here he was with a child. Here he was, with a child his father would never know.

 

Here he was pacing in the dark, circling his apartment block every twenty minutes or so, wondering why he couldn't bring himself to simply go home. No. Not circling. Patrolling. Guarding the perimeter.

 

He had behaved very badly. He was behaving very badly. In fact, he was behaving like his own father, at his worst, vanishing from his family when things got difficult. This...this night watch was unnecessary. He understood that. He knew it... But he was afraid. Not just of Victoria, but of his own weakness. 

 

He should be a man. Go home, and face the music, apologise to Ray. 

 

If he did go home, though, he wouldn't be able to put it off any more, the conversation about Victoria. Good Lord, the anger, the pain in Ray's voice. “You still love Victoria.” What could he say to that?

 

He stopped his pacing, leaned against a tree, far enough away from the street lamp that he wasn't caught in the pool of light, watched his front window. The curtains had been drawn, the lights had gone out. Cathy and Ray must be asleep by now. At some point he had to gather his courage and talk to Ray. At some other point, years down the line perhaps, but getting closer everyday, he would have to talk to Cathy about her mother. The thought made him physically ill.

 

He turned his mind back to less difficult prospect of explaining himself to Ray. “You still love Victoria,” he had said. No, Ray didn't understand at all. How could he? Fraser had only just come to realise it himself. 

 

The truth which was driving him mercilessly in circles through the night streets was far more terrible than that. For so long he had been so consumed with guilt that he'd refused to admit it, had tried to make everything his fault. It had crept up on him though, gradually, the secret he had been keeping from himself. And then, the first time he heard Cathy crying in her sleep, the first time she'd flinched when she thought she'd made a mistake... then it hit him, like fist in the face.

 

He didn't love Victoria at all.

 

He could tolerate Victoria having hurt him. He could have forgiven her almost anything. But he could not endure it, when he realised that she had hurt his child.

 

Not their child, not Victoria's... his. His and Ray's. 

 

No. He did not love Victoria. Not any more. He couldn't even love the memory of her, could barely even remember what it had felt like to love her. The sheer thought of her intimacies made his flesh creep, as though he was being stroked by dead fingers. Yes, he had made appalling mistakes, he had treated his best friend contemptibly. He had been worse than a fool. But for the first time he realised that he hadn't deserved it. Cathy didn't deserve it. And he realised...

 

Even worse, he realised that he hated her. And... it wasn't the first time he had hated someone. He hated Muldoon. It wasn't even the first time he had hated someone he had once loved. He hated Gerrard. But the thought that he could hate someone he had felt himself so close to, believed himself one flesh with, someone he would have... sold his soul for... that disgusted him. More than that, it filled him with cold horror. He hated that he had such hate in him, where once there had been love.

 

He couldn't even think of how to explain that to Ray. The man he shared a bed with. If Ray saw that blackness in him, would he still love him? Fraser loathed what he saw in himself. He couldn't bear it if Ray learned to loathe him too.

 

His other Ray would understand, he realised. He was perhaps the only other person on the planet who knew the depths of Victoria's malice. He was certainly the only other person who knew the depths to which Fraser had sunk. And he had never reproached him. Had forgiven him even. No, not forgiven him... Some kind of miracle. Ray had never held it against him in the first place.

 

He realised, as he watched his apartment in the dark, that he had promised Anna that he would speak to Ray, and he was torn. He didn't know where he was supposed to be, who he was supposed to be comforting. He stood poised between his two Rays, and sunk his head. Sighed, and started walking again. Around, around, around.  
…

 

“Hey, Vecchio, if you're there, pick up the phone.” Damn. The guy wasn't at work either. Wasn't picking up his cell...

 

Not like you've got him on a leash, Kowalski. He shouldn't read anything into it... Vecchio was a busy man, and it wasn't like he was good at answering the phone anyway. He'd get back to him when he could. 

 

Somebody had better get back to him soon, or he was going to go crazy here. He closed his eyes, pushed his fingers through his hair. He thrummed with nerves, sitting on the kitchen counter, and his legs swung urgently, bare heels knocking against the wooden doors. With an effort of will he stilled himself. It was as though his feet were trying to run after Fraser, even though he knew he couldn't leave the apartment. They were stuck here together, he and Cathy, waiting for his return. He couldn't drag the poor kid all over Chicago looking for her Dad. Angrily his feet started up again, making a drumming sound. Fraser wasn't here to tell him off for sitting on the counter, or to shoo him from the kitchen to give him space as he cooked dinner. Like Fraser was always the grown up. Yeah, right. Well, he'd fucked up now. Well and truly. Thrown a tantrum and run off somewhere to sulk.

 

Most guys would have run off to a bar or something. It wasn't gonna be that. The thought returned, maybe he's gone to see Vecchio... Only he knew that couldn't be it either, because Vecchio's place was always so damned crowded. Fraser wouldn't want all that noise. He struggled with it at the best of times. He checked with the Vecchios anyway, sounding casual about it, but Fraser wasn't there. Thank God he'd got Maria on the phone. Frannie woulda known something was wrong in an instant.

 

Thing was, Vecchio wasn't there either. And he wasn't at work, and he wasn't at Anna's. He didn't want to worry Anna, not if she was at work. He scraped a hand over his chin, and didn't leave a message.

 

Cathy was tired, and had only eaten half her breakfast. They'd played, distractedly for a few hours, pretending not to worry, as they set up the scalectrix set and raced each other round sharp corners, under the fascinated stare of Dief. Then they'd started reading The Big Friendly Giant for the third time since she'd got it, and Cathy told him Willie did a better giant voice, and he told her he was Mighty Ray, and she should behave or he'd make her eat snozzcumbers. She'd giggled and asked him did he think they tasted of snot, and he asked her how did she know what snot tasted like, because he didn't have a clue. And she'd told him he was a liar, and they'd giggled, and she tried to tickle him, and he'd pretended he was more ticklish than he really was, and she'd giggled even more.

 

On the surface things seemed to be normal. Cathy was curled up on the couch with Dief, watching cartoons sleepily. But it wasn't a normal day. They had been supposed to go swimming, but neither of them felt up to it. And neither of them were saying it, but they were both waiting for Fraser to come home.

 

Their whole day was shot, and Cathy deserved better, and when he saw Fraser he was gonna kick him in the head. 

 

If Fraser was all right. And that was the problem. He didn't know whether to be angry, or damned scared. Because Fraser had gone off at the deep end before, but he'd never gone off as bad, as deep... shit, what's the metaphor? He'd never gone off as bad as this. He'd never not been there for Cathy.

 

“Vecchio?” He sighed as the phone went, again, unanswered. “Listen, you've got my number. Ring me on my cell when you get this.”

 

Crap. Now he was wondering if Vecchio was all right...

 

As he dropped the receiver back into its cradle he heard a soft click. Dief started barking, delightedly, and went clattering across the floor. He knew Fraser was back even before Cathy cried out “Daddy!” And he knew from Dief's barks that Fraser was okay. 

 

Yeah, great. Now he could be angry.

 

He shoved himself off the counter, and stalked into the living room, ready to grab Fraser by the ears and drag him into a corner to tell him exactly what he thought. But... 

 

Fraser was kneeling at the couch, hugging Cathy to him, eyes closed, rocking slightly, like she was a baby on his shoulder. Cathy was hugging back, petting the back of his head with her hand. 

 

“There, there,” she said, as though he was the baby.

 

Damn, now he was angry with Fraser and sorry for him all at the same time. Because a little girl shouldn't have to comfort her Daddy like that.

 

Fraser sat back on his heels, stared at her, and flashed a smile. It even looked like a real one. “Hey, don't worry princess... I'm fine.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. I was delayed at work, that's all. I didn't mean to worry you.”

 

Cathy's face brightened. Ray felt his lips twist. Yeah, kid thought her father couldn't lie to her. Or maybe she just really, really wanted to believe him...

 

“Hey Fraser,” he said, flicking a look at him. “I need some help in the kitchen.”

 

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser got to his feet, smoothly, as though nothing had happened, smiled again at Cathy, who settled back against her cushion, looking truly comfortable for the first time all day.

 

“I want something fishy,” she said, predictably.

 

“Coming up, hedgehog. You watch your cartoons, your Daddy and I will get dinner started.

 

Ray let the kitchen door shut gently, then rounded on Fraser.

 

“What the hell was all that about?”

 

“I'm sorry, Ray.”

 

“Sorry? You had me worried half to death. You had Cathy worried half to death. You know I had to stay in with her last night? Poor kid kept waking up, talking in her sleep. She was crying Fraser. You know you're a bastard, don't you?”

 

Fraser looked pale and pinched. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Yeah? Well, it's not good enough. What the hell were you playing at?”

 

“I thought... I didn't think...”

 

“What?”

 

“What you said. About... about how I feel. About... Victoria.”

 

Oh yeah, that. Ray jutted out his chin, defiantly, hoping that fury would hide the hurt. “What about it? It's true.”

 

“No.” Fraser's voice was suddenly firm. “No, it's not.”

 

As if. One thing Ray knew from personal experience... how hard it was to let go of someone you loved, had once loved, even when they didn't love you any more. “So why all the drama?”

 

Fraser bit his lip. “I don't know how to explain this...”

 

“Well, give it a try. I'm all ears.”

 

Fraser sucked in a breath, released it, and closed his eyes. “You got it wrong. I don't...” he dropped his voice so low that Ray strained to hear. “I don't love her. She's Cathy's mother, I know I loved her once but...”

 

“What?” Ray could hear his voice becoming more gentle as he struggled to understand.

 

“I... hate her.” Fraser was whispering. “So much, for... what she did to Cathy, what she did to Ray. What she's doing to us.”

 

Ray felt lost. He felt like he should have guessed that, but... he didn't know Fraser had hate in him. “What about you, Ben?” He knew he was pushing, but he had to ask. “Do you hate her for what she did to you?”

 

“God help me, Ray,” Fraser spoke without any tone at all. “I do.” Wordlessly Ray stepped up to him, put his arms around him. Fraser rested his head on his shoulder. “And, Ray...”

 

“What, Ben?”

 

“I'm scared. I know I said I wasn't, but I am.” Fraser raised his head, and yeah... that was fright. That was sheer terror in his eyes. “When I heard you and Ray were going after her, I was scared. She could... she could kill you.”

 

“I'm sorry, Ben, I just... I know it's dumb, but I didn't think of that.”

 

“Promise me, promise me you'll stop. For my sake. For Cathy.”

 

“Okay,” he closed his eyes. “Okay. Anything.”

 

“Thank you.” Fraser said, on a sigh. Ray kissed him lightly on the cheek.

 

“Listen, I'll cook the fishy food. You go watch cartoons with Cathy.” 

 

Fraser nodded, obediently. He looked beat. As he stepped through the door though, his body language changed, and he walked straighter. His voice sounded brighter as he greeted their daughter, and Ray swallowed a lump in his throat. Fraser, king of liars. Damn, but he loved the man.  
…

 

“Yeah, Vecchio?” He'd been ignoring his phone all day, but he couldn't keep it up any more. Okay, so it was Saturday, he was meant to get a rest every now and then, but he knew if he didn't talk to somebody soon they'd start sending out search parties.

 

“Oh, hey Benny.” Thank God it was him, and not Ma. Or even worse, Anna... he didn't really know what to say to her since his meltdown yesterday morning. She'd been so concerned, and he'd felt like such a fool... Fortunately she had been at work today, and he hadn't had to face her yet.

 

“Hello, Ray. Er... I wondered if I could, uhm, see you perhaps?”

 

Oh that wasn't good. Ray's cop senses were tingling. Fraser never did the 'uhm and er' thing. Fraser did the Canadian 'ah' thing, as in 'ah, I know everything, allow me to elucidate.' The 'uhms' and 'ers' were for confused citizens of Chicago, like him and Kowalski. 

 

“You okay, Benny?”

 

“Yes, I'm... I'm fine. I just wanted to talk. Is there anywhere we can meet? Privately?”

 

Oh, God. That was why Kowalski had been ringing. He shoulda listened to the messages, he'd thought it was a work thing. Benny knew about Victoria.

 

“Ray? Are you there?”

 

“Yeah, yeah Benny. I was just trying to think of a place... uh, how private do you need it to be?”

 

“Somewhere we can't be overheard.”

 

Yeah, definitely Victoria. 

 

“Okay...” he sighed. “I was gonna talk to Father Behan today anyway. Do you want to meet me at the church?”

 

“No,” Benny's voice sounded sharp with alarm. “No,” he repeated, more calmly. “I'm sorry... I... not the church.”

 

“Okay, well, how about I just come over?”

 

“How soon can you be here?”

 

“Gimme half an hour...” He cringed for a moment. He hoped he'd not caused any problems between Benny and Ray... Benny would forgive him anything, he reckoned, but Kowalski had a temper. And to be fair, Ray felt he'd deserve it. “You and Kowalski,” he said, “you're okay?”

 

“Yes, Ray,” Benny's voice was tired, but gentle. “Yes, we're all right now. I hope you're... well... I'll see you soon.”

 

Jeez, Ray thought, as the phone went dead. Since when did seeing Benny fill him with dread?  
…

 

Cathy pouted at him when he said he couldn't go swimming, but cheered up when she saw Ray coming through the door. Fraser smiled as she tugged her uncle's fingers, asking could he come swimming too. There was a word for what he was feeling. Fond? The people he loved most were in this room. He felt unbearably fond of all them. It was like a rope around his heart. All they had to do was smile, and he could feel it tug on him. 

 

“Nah, honey, your Dad and I have some business. But... maybe if it's all right I can be here when you get back?” He glanced between Fraser and Ray nervously, as though expecting one or the other of them to tell him to get out.

 

“That's fine, Vecchio,” Ray said, and patted him on the shoulder. “You wanna stay for dinner, that's fine too. So long as you cook.”

 

“That...” relief shook in Ray's voice, “yeah, I can do that.”

 

“Fishy food,” Cathy demanded.

 

“Cathy,” Fraser stroked her hair. “You'd eat fish in your oatmeal if I let you. I'm surprised you don't grow gills.”

 

“Oh, that would be so cool,” she looked delighted with the idea. “Then I could swim underwater forever.”

 

“Come on, sweet knees,” Ray said, “let's leave your Daddy and your Uncle to their business, and we'll talk about mutant, er, ninja mermaids in the car.”

 

“Okay,” Cathy flashed a smile as she headed out the door, hanging on to Ray's little finger. Fraser was surprised she hadn't dislocated anyone's metacarpal or phalangeal joints yet, but neither he, nor either of his Rays ever complained. With a clatter and flurry of fading conversation the two of them were gone. The apartment fell silent.

 

Finally, Fraser lifted his head. “You're still wearing your coat, Ray,” he said.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Ray shuffled out of it, hung it up. “Erm, Benny, I just gotta say... sorry. I get that you're angry...”

 

“I'm not angry.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray sounded unconvinced. “Well, I reckon you should be. I mean, we shouldn't a gone behind your back like that.”

 

“I understand why you did it.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I'm not always the easiest person to talk to.”

 

“It's not that, Benny.” Ray's voice was very gentle. Fraser shifted uncomfortably under his compassionate green gaze. “We just, you know, she hurt you so bad. We didn't wanna rake that all up. There's just so much crap a guy can take.”

 

“And you thought I was reaching the limit of my 'crap' quotient?” Ray blinked, and Fraser felt a smile quirk at the corner of lips, even as he felt ashamed. “I'm sorry, Ray, I didn't mean to curse. Certainly not at you.” Or anyone, he thought, remembering his screaming match yesterday, over the phone.

 

“Hey, Benny,” Ray was beginning to ease into a smile. “You're allowed to swear.”

 

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow, uncomfortably. “I just...” he sighed. “I already had this conversation with Ray. But...” he stumbled over his words, and started again. “As you know, I lost my whole family, growing up. And yes, I realise that I do have a sister, but we haven't had a chance yet to... really get to know each other. Not the way that I... not how I know you. I never had a brother before. I don't want to lose you.”

 

“Benny, that's why we were going after her. We don't want her to hurt you, or Cathy.”

 

“She's a stone cold killer,” Fraser said, bluntly. “We don't know how many people she's killed. I couldn't live with it if I lost you too. She tried to destroy you once before. We know that she could go after anyone and everyone I love. I don't want to... attract her attention.”

 

“You're not gonna lose me, Benny. You're not gonna lose Kowalski either... Ray. I mean you're not gonna lose Ray.”

 

“Or Cathy.”

 

“I don't think even Victoria would hurt Cathy. She did give her to you, after all. She knew you'd do a better job looking after her than she ever could. Honestly? I think she loves her.”

 

“With Victoria,” Fraser said, with a sour twist in his stomach, “love looks very much like hate.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I get that.” Ray passed his hand over his shorn head, and sighed. “But just... before you decide we should stop looking, will you look at the file? At least look at what we got already?”

 

Dumbly, Fraser nodded his head.

 

“You'll want to sit down, Benny. It's... kinda upsetting.”

 

It was.

 

Blinking. He was sitting at the kitchen table, blinking at the wall. Prostitution, blackmail, murder. His daughter had grown up surrounded by that...

 

Ray was standing next to him, resting his hand on his back, talking.

 

Ah.

 

“Yes,” Fraser said, quietly. “Yes, it is upsetting.”

 

“You all right, Benny?”

 

“Yes, yes. Quite all right.” He sighed. “Normally I would say that we should continue an investigation, but I honestly think we should hand these files over to the relevant authorities, and let them handle it. The murder...” his voice faded. 

 

“You still got feelings for her?” Ray sounded sad, more than disappointed. 

 

“Not the ones you imagine,” Fraser said. He shook his head, briskly. He didn't want to talk about that again. “I just don't want Cathy to be hurt. We don't know what she witnessed, whether she was there when...”

 

“When her mother killed the guy?”

 

“Someone needs to investigate it,” Fraser admitted, “but it can't be us. If... no, when all this comes out, we have to be here to look after her. We need to... let this go.”

 

“How can we?”

 

“You said it. She loves Cathy enough that she gave her to me. We'll have to live with the assumption that she won't hurt Cathy. So, we should give her no reason to come after us.”

 

“You think that'll be enough? If we leave her alone, she'll leave us alone?”

 

“I hope so.” Fraser spread his hands out flat on the table top, stared at them. “It's all we have.”

 

Ray sighed, and pulled out a kitchen chair, sat on it, folded his legs, stroked the pleats of his trousers. “Okay, Benny,” he said. “If that's what it takes for you to be happy, yeah. And...” He closed his eyes, and sighed. “I have to find some way to live with it too. So yeah, okay... we'll let it go.”

 

“Ray, I never really told you, how sorry I am for what I did...”

 

“You did? Jeez, Benny, I shot you!”

 

“I nearly abandoned you. I nearly...”

 

“Yeah, but you didn't. And even if you had gone with her, you'd have seen sense, you'd have been back in a week.”

 

“If she hadn't killed me first.”

 

“Maybe. Look, let's just drop it, okay? I mean all of it. I'll pass the file on to the FBI, and we'll pretend none of it happened.”

 

Fraser took Ray's hand from across the table, squeezed it in his own. “Thank you.”

 

Ray let out a sigh, as though he'd been holding his breath for weeks, finally relaxing. “S'okay, Benny. Everything's gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to put up... it was a sod to write, what with one thing or another in real life. It will be at least a week before the next one, but don't worry, I'll be back. Anti angst just around the corner... Frannie's baby is due!


	32. A Dark and Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it rains cats and dogs, Barbara Kowalski threatens to kick her husband in the head, we are introduced to the queen of the cats, and Ray has a magic touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for generalised smooching slashiness, particularly at the end.

Grandad looked a bit like Ray when he grinned, even if his face was fatter, and he didn't have so much hair, and what hair he did have wasn't spiky. But he still grinned the same, and Cathy was grinning too, even though she didn't know what the surprise was.

 

“Did you get the buggy working?”

 

“Not yet, honey. We're doing that one together. When we get it working I'll need you to drive it round... I'm too big for it.”

 

Oh, good. Cathy had been worried that Granddad might finish the engine without her. And she wanted to know where everything went. Daddy had bought her some books on mechanics and engineering, but though she liked it when Daddy read to her, and she liked books with pictures, and she could read almost anything when she really tried, she still didn't have a clue what the books were talking about.

 

Granddad was great though, because when he showed her something, he explained it so it made sense. And when he and Ray were in the room with her, it was like magic, watching how rapidly a bunch of disorganised metal and rubber pieces could grow into a working engine.

 

So far they'd helped her make two little engines. And now Granddad was teaching her how to build a big engine, and when they were finished, they'd have a little buggy for the park. She might be naughty, and chase Dief in it. He'd like that.

 

“Is the surprise something to do with engines?”

 

“No, honey. Nothing to do with engines at all.”

 

“Is the surprise that Granny made a cake?”

 

“Granny always makes you cake. Where would be the surprise in that?”

 

Cathy nodded. He had a point. She tugged his coat, frustrated. “I can't guess. Tell me.”

 

Granddad laughed. “Where would be the fun in that? Come on, honey. Let me show you.”

 

She could tell that he wanted to swing her up for a cuddle, but last time he'd done that, she'd been cross, because he forgot to ask, and it annoyed her that people thought she couldn't walk. Not that Granddad thought that, but she'd been having a bad day, and shouted at him. Poor Granddad. She put her arms up, and smiled, and he lifted her. 

 

“Close your eyes,” he said. “No peeking.”

 

She giggled, and hid her eyes behind her hands. She spread her fingers apart slightly to peer between them, but Granddad must be magic, because he put his free hand in front of her face, blocking her view. “No peeking,” he repeated, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

 

“Please?”

 

“Okay... Now.”

 

Cathy pulled down her hands, opened her eyes wide, and saw...

 

A cat. There, on the couch... an orange, creamy, chocolate cat, with golden eyes.

 

“Oh, Granddad...” she whispered. This was the cat she had felt sorry for who lived next door, until the family 'flitted' in the middle of the night. “You got Tiddles.”

 

“Sure did, Pumpkin.” He sounded pleased with himself. “She needed a home, and I thought you'd like a cat.”

 

“Thank you Granddad,” she said, and squished her face up into his cheek so she could kiss him. 

 

“Any time, love,” he said, settling her gently on the couch, next to Tiddles. “You wanna give her a cuddle?”

 

“Yes please,” she said, and stretched out her hand.

 

“She likes it when you scratch her back,” he said. 

 

Tiddles half shut her eyes, and leant into her touch, purring. Cathy shuffled up closer to her, and the happy cat rolled onto her back, displaying her belly. 

 

“She likes me,” Cathy said, excited.

 

“Of course she likes you. Do you think I'd get you a mad cat? Everyone with a brain likes Cathy.”

 

Tiddles poked out a pink tongue, and started licking Cathy's hand. 

 

“Ooh, she's scritchy.”

 

“That's how they comb their fur.”

 

“It must tickle,” Cathy said, thoughtfully. “She has a prickly tongue.”

 

Sadly, Daddy wasn't as happy when he arrived to discover that Cathy had a new pet cat. 

 

“Oh dear,” he said, tugging his collar. “While I appreciate the gesture, Damien, you have to realise that we can't possibly have a cat in the apartment. Dief has many virtues, but I think the presence of a feline in his living environment might prove to be one temptation too many. He is, after all, a wolf.”

 

“Half wolf, Daddy,” Cathy said. “And he'd love Tiddles. Tiddles is cute.”

 

“From Dief's perspective,” Daddy said regretfully, “Tiddles is probably dinner.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Granddad said, sounding more annoyed than sorry. Not annoyed with Daddy though, annoyed with himself. “I suppose I was being a bit compulsive...”

 

“Impulsive,” corrected Daddy and Cathy together, and Granddad rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry... just she'd been made homeless, and I didn't like to think of her out on the street. And Cathy's so good with animals...”

 

Daddy crouched down, and stroked Tiddles on her belly, smiling slightly. Tiddles made a noise like one of the little engines Cathy had built with Granddad, and Daddy made a growly noise back. He sounded just like a cat purring. Tiddles stretched out long, and dug her claws into Daddy's jeans, not in a scratchy way, but in a 'yum yum, more cuddles' way. Daddy was making meow noises now, and it sounded just like he was speaking Cat. Cathy stared, delighted, as Daddy nodded, and bent his ear to Tiddles so he could hear her better. He really was speaking Cat! Her Daddy was so cool.

 

Granddad was looking slightly amused about something, and raised an eyebrow at Cathy. He nodded at her Daddy. “I can see your Daddy likes cats too.”

 

“Are you sure Dief will eat her,” Cathy asked, sadly, hoping at least one of the men would give her the answer she wanted. (No. No. Dief wouldn't eat Tiddles. Dief would curl up with her, and play ball with her, and let her lick his fur...)

 

“Well, perhaps he won't get a chance to eat her,” Daddy said. “Because there's always the possibility that she'll attack him first.” Daddy looked at Granddad wryly. “As I'm sure you know, pregnant cats are very territorial...”

 

“Pregnant?” Granddad's jaw dropped.

 

“Did she just tell you that?” Cathy was delighted.

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Daddy said, twinkling a grin at her. “That is to say... no. But I did feel her belly, and she has little babies inside. Here... give me your hand.”

 

Eagerly, Cathy held out her hand. Daddy placed her palm on Tiddle's belly, and gently pressed. “This is how you palpate to feel for kittens... or puppies, or bear cubs, depending on the species.” Beneath the skin she could feel little lumps, wriggling.

 

“Oh,” she said. “I felt that before, but I just thought she had wind.” 

 

Daddy laughed. “No... I'd say at least three kittens. No more than five though...”

 

“Oh, zippidy doo da,” Granddad said, sounding exactly like Ray, and sinking onto a chair. “Barbara's gonna kill me...”

 

“Well,” Daddy said, “you have about a fortnight, I think, before you're inundated with baby kittens. I'll help you get set up for it, and if I'm not at work when she goes into labour, I'll come round and help.”

 

“Thanks...” Granddad shook his head. “I've gotta stop doing things like this...”

 

“Things like what, dear?” Granny was just letting herself in the back door. Daddy stood up, and helped her with her groceries. “Oh,” she sighed. “You got a cat...”

 

“Uhm... Babs?”

 

“Yes Damien?”

 

“There's something I gotta tell you...”  
…

 

Ray was grinning as Fraser walked in the door. “Hey, Frase,” he said. “Mom called. I hear Cathy's having kittens.”

 

“Oh, good Lord,” Fraser hung up his coat, wearily. Good news travelled fast. He leant against the wall for a moment, trying not to smile. It wouldn't do to encourage the male Kowalskis in their obviously inherited form of insanity. “That man...” He shut his eyes. Oh dear... he was going to laugh despite himself. “That man reminds me so much of you that it's not funny.”

 

“Hey, I thought you liked me!”

 

“I love you, Ray, but I must say, I hope you're more responsible when we have grandchildren, or Cathy will have a nervous breakdown.”

 

Ray stepped up to him, threaded their fingers together. “Grandchildren? Don't you think Cathy should have a say in that?”

 

“Ah, yes.” Fraser cleared his throat. “Apparently, I am turning into my father. I'll be hiding in a closet next, dispensing insufferable advice from beyond the grave.”

 

“Your father was in the closet?”

 

“Not like that, Ray.” Fraser paused, for a moment, speculatively. “At least... I don't think so.”

 

“Come on,” Ray was grinning. “Take your boots off. I've got a treat for you.”

 

“Oh, please God,” Fraser sank to the couch with a sigh. “Please tell me you haven't rescued a cat.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“A turtle?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Fraser paused, as he pulled off his second boot. He was so tired that when it fell over he didn't bother to set it right. “What?”

 

“I'm rescuing a Mountie,” Ray informed him. He settled on the cushion next to him, and started unbuttoning his tunic. Fraser closed his eyes, his body easing at the comforting touch. Ray brushed a kiss against his cheek, carried on talking. “And I'm pleased with you, so stay sitting down, and let me rescue you.”

 

“What on earth are you talking about, Ray?”

 

“You did good.”

 

“What do you mean I did good...”

 

Ray's face sobered up for a moment. “I know it was hard for you. Letting Cathy have a sleep over at my Mum and Dad's. You know, because of...”

 

Because of the whole Victoria panic, Fraser thought, ashamed. It had actually been very difficult for him to let someone else look after Cathy, even for a night. Even her Grandparents. “Well,” he admitted, “I might be an overprotective father, but I do realise that if Cathy's going to have a normal childhood she needs to do normal things. And your parents are lovely with her. Besides,” he smiled. “You should see her with Tiddles...”

 

“Tiddles?”

 

“Yes,” Fraser blushed at the ludicrous name. “Though the cat herself informs me that she is to be referred to as Regina Multichroma, and that in the Seely Courts of Felinia our proper designation is 'slave.'”

 

“I see,” Ray said, straight-faced. “And did you tell my Dad this?”

 

“Well, I told Cathy, and Cathy told your father, and when I left he was getting glue and sparkles for her, and she was cutting out a paper crown...”

 

It started off as a chuckle. Fraser managed to keep a straight face as Ray's laughter built up. “Jeez... Frase... I wish you'd... I wish you'd... got a picture!” 

 

“A picture of what, Ray?”

 

“Of Cathy's face! You know she believes it when you tell her you speak to animals...”

 

“Well, I do speak to animals...”

 

“I mean, when you tell her animals speak back to you...”

 

“Well, they do speak back to me...”

 

“Oh, Fraser,” Ray was shaking with barely suppressed laughter, and shoved him. “You crazy Mountie! When she starts school she's gonna be running round telling everyone her Daddy's Doctor Doolittle...” Ray spluttered, then doubled over his own belly, hugging himself, and rocking with laughter. Fraser managed to contain himself for a moment longer... but then Dief joined in, wandering into the room to see what all the excitement was about. He perked up at the laughter, sat back on his haunches, and howled. 

 

That did it. Fraser cracked up completely.  
…

 

“It was a dark and stormy night,” Granny said, and Granddad snorted.

 

“Granny,” Cathy said reproachfully, “that doesn't help.”

 

“No,” Granny said, as she cuddled Cathy on her lap. “It does help.”

 

“I'm scared of the storm,” Cathy pointed out. “I don't want to hear a story about a storm, it's scary.”

 

“Not this storm,” Granny said. “Because this storm is so windy...” Cathy shuddered, listening to the wind outside the window, “that it rained cats and dogs. No, seriously. Because a little girl was walking down the street, with her pink umbrella...” 

 

“Pink,” Granddad scoffed, and guffawed. Granny shot him a warning glance, and continued. 

 

“With her pink umbrella, Damien Kowalski, and there was a pitter patter, pitter patter, and all of a sudden there were these little itty bitty wee cats and dogs falling all around her.”

 

“Really?” Cathy was somewhat less than convinced. Granny's stories were always funny, but they weren't like Daddy's stories, or Ray's stories, or Uncle Ray's stories, or Willie's stories, about crime fighting and sinking ships, and beluga toads, and rubber ducks, and plane crashes. Those things really happened. Though... she wasn't quite sure about Daddy and Ray jumping out of a plane without a parachute. That was a little bit silly.

 

Maybe they exaggerated. But still...

 

Granny told funny fibs, not stories, because they didn't have... Cathy screwed up her forehead trying to think of what made a good story. What had Daddy said... plot, character, dialogue... motive? She'd forgotten what motive meant. She'd have to look it up. And then Daddy had started talking about some Greek guy and dramatic you nutties, which sounded like somebody was calling someone crazy, and was a bit rude for Daddy. Ray must have thought so too, because he came in then, and told Daddy to stop being such a freak, just tell Cathy a bedtime story already. So Daddy did. This was one of her favourites, and she'd heard it from everyone... Daddy, Ray, Ray, Frannie, Willie... even Nonna told this one. Daddy told it best. It was about the time he first came to Chicago on the trail of the killer of her grandfather, and Uncle Ray pushed him out a window because there was an explosion, and then later Uncle Ray came to Canada on the trail of her Daddy, and they were chased by bad men in white suits with homo... homi... something cidal intentions, but they managed to save the day and arrest the bad guy.

 

“I thought that story took two hours to tell,” Ray had said.

 

“This is the truncated version.”

 

“I want the full version,” Cathy demanded, sleepily.

 

“The full version has Nonna Vecchio cooking polenta, so you know about that...”

 

“Yeah, but it's also got bar fights, if I remember,” said Ray, “and a truck load of Armani suits, apparently, and...”

 

“That's enough,” said Daddy to Ray, pretending to be cross, and turning his back. He was smiling though. “Good night, sweetheart,” he said to her, kissing her and tucking her in. She dozed off listening to Daddy and Ray's voices, murmuring in the corridor, and Ray burst into laughter, before Daddy said, “hush” like he was smiling too.

 

Nope. Granny's stories were nothing like Daddy's. But they were funny. “Why would it rain cats,” Cathy asked, resting her head on Granny's pillow soft bosom.

 

“Because heaven is full of pussy cats, and doggies, and...”

 

“Why does it only rain cats and dogs then,” Cathy asked, “and not angels and horses?”

 

“Because angels and horses are too big to be washed out by the rain.”

 

“Aren't there spiders in heaven? Because they're little, and pretty, and they might get washed down too.”

 

“Oh no, there aren't any spiders in heaven. Because when they get there they turn into something less ugly... daisies I think.”

 

“Granny?”

 

“Yes dear?”

 

Cathy yawned sleepily, and slid her thumb into her mouth. “That makes no sense.”

 

Granddad laughed. “She's got you there, Barbara.”

 

“Well, you tell the story next time, Mr Kowalski, and let me handle the pets. If I sent you to the market to buy a cow, you'd just come back with magic beans.”

 

“Now, that's a story Babs... try that one next time.”

 

“None of your cheek, Damien Kowalski. I can still kick you in the head.”

 

She peered out through half closed eyes to see Granddad leaning across, and kissing Granny on the cheek. Granny was smiling. “Whatever you say, Barbara. You're the boss.”

 

“You're lovely,” Cathy mumbled to both of them, and fell asleep.  
…

 

“There's a storm,” Fraser said, looking at the window. Even though the curtains were shut, you could see the water washing down the glass, throwing liquid shadows through the room. The wind rattled against the house, and the rain pattered out a noise like dried peas being shaken in a can.

 

“Yeah, Ben, I can see there's a storm. Ya know? I'm a detective. I detected it.”

 

Fraser sighed, and shifted on the couch, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, I'm just worried about Cathy.”

 

“What for? It's not like my parents are gonna leave her out on the side walk overnight. She's got a nice roof over her head, and a nice warm bed, and doting Grandparents to look after her.”

 

“She's scared of storms.”

 

“I know. Look, Frase, if she was really scared, and needed us for anything, Mum or Dad woulda called by now. And they haven't. So, either she's still making paper crowns for Tiddles, or she's fast asleep.”

 

“She'd normally be asleep this time of night,” Fraser mused. “I hope she's all right.”

 

“Hey, earth calling Fraser.” He waved his hand in Fraser's face. “Come back from Mountie la la land, okay? She's fine. She's with my parents. If they managed to raise me right, then Cathy's gonna be a doddle. You have no idea what a nightmare I was to bring up.”

 

“I can imagine.”

 

“Hey? What's that supposed to mean? And... no. No you can't.” Fraser smiled, then pulled a face, wriggled. “All right,” Ray said. “What's wrong? Besides worrying about Cathy. You've been walking around like you pulled something, and you can't get comfortable. I'm the one with ants in his pants... why can't you sit still?”

 

“Ah... nothing for you to worry about but...”

 

“If you don't tell me, I'll beat a confession out of you.”

 

“That would scarcely be inducive to an improvement in my...” Fraser ran to a halt part way through his diatribe. “Oh, I can't even be bothered.”

 

“What, you can't be bothered to talk? Now I know there's something wrong...”

 

“I'm just tired.”

 

“This is more than tired, Frase.” Damn. He'd been planning all sorts for tonight... either hot steamy sex, or romantic cuddling... and now it looked like nobody was getting any after all. And he was a selfish horny bastard. He only hoped Fraser was all right.

 

“Well,” Fraser admitted, “you've probably guessed it anyway. My back's playing up.” He raised a hand in his 'stop the traffic' gesture before Ray could speak. “It's nothing serious... the doctor tells me it's only to be expected, and that I shouldn't engage in any strenuous activities for a while.”

 

“Shit, Frase, you're gonna have to get this sorted out. Your back keeps going on you...”

 

“Well, I must say, I'm no more pleased with the situation than you are. I'd had plans for tonight, and it seems we're going to be disappointed.”

 

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking of?”

 

Fraser looked at him as though he was the single dumbest life form on the planet. “Well... sex, of course.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray felt a smile spreading across his face. So he wasn't the only one sexually frustrated. They might be able to work something out after all... “Cool.”

 

“Not so cool,” Fraser frowned. “I'm rather stiff...”

 

“Hey, I like stiff!”

 

“Good Lord, now you're going to inflict schoolboy puns on me. That's just adding insult to injury...”

 

“Yeah, it's a hard life, isn't it?”

 

“You are incorrigible.”

 

“If that means I gotta one track mind, then yeah.” Ray smirked. “Come on, you don't gotta be strenuous. I got an idea. We'll call it water therapy, if the doctor asks what you been doing to your back, okay?”

 

Fraser was smiling at him, a little bit too knowingly for his innocent expression to work. He had a hand behind him though, on the small of his back. Ray frowned.

 

“You need some painkillers?”

 

“No, thank you kindly.” Despite his discomfort, Fraser sounded amused. “You don't have to get me stoned to get me into bed.”

 

“I wasn't thinking bed,” Ray said. “I was thinking shower.”

 

“Oh,” Fraser nodded appreciatively. “That's a very good idea...”

 

And actually, even though they got a bit carried away and forgot the doctor's orders, that Fraser not do anything too 'vigorous', the warm water did help Fraser's back.  
…

 

Fraser knows that he's dreaming. He's had this dream before... or perhaps it was Ray who'd had it... He's not sure. These things make more sense when you are sleeping, and right now, he is floating on the hinterland of dream. The rain against the window blurs against the memory of the shower water falling on his skin, and then he and Ray are naked again, surrounded by the warm and fragrant rain.

 

“Ray,” he whispers, rising into wakefulness for a moment. 

 

“Frase,” Ray murmurs, “the pony's teaching Cathy how to dance.”

 

Ah. So Ray is having a completely different kind of dream. Strange that this one feels so familiar.

 

And they are naked in the rain, and they are dancing.

 

'See? You're not like a stick at all. Come on... there's only one rule.'

 

'What's that?' Fraser's heart is in his throat, and it's hard to talk.

 

'The only rule is, our bodies have to touch all over...'

 

He feels his penis filling with heat, rising up against his belly. Ray's hands are slick and warm, and rubbing up and down his back. Ray's hard cock nudges against his own.

 

'Are you sure this is dancing?'

 

'Feels like it to me.'

 

'Feels like sex to me.'

 

'That too.'

 

Beneath Ray's hands he feels something pluck, deep inside him. A twang. There's a clatter on the floor, and Ray swoops him in a turn.

 

'Would ya look at that...'

 

A little piece of golden metal lies upon the ground. Ray smiles, and kisses, tugging his lower lip gently with his teeth. Fraser lets him press him, in a long glide, down to the platform floor.

 

When Fraser wakes, the bed is wet, and outside, the rain has slowed down. Ray's facing him, and his cheek is squished up on one side from the pillow. Fraser rolls, kisses his nose, and Ray smiles, makes a sleep noise like a far away cat. Tiddles, Fraser thinks, smiling back.

 

Something's good, Fraser thinks. Something different... What's different...

 

He puts his hand to the small of his back. He's been used to the pain so long, he'd almost forgotten... It's like a little, secret miracle. For as long as it takes the rain to stop, there is no pain at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you all had to wait so long for this one! I was interrupted by holidays, then other writing projects, then the joys of RL. Hope you all enjoy this... I desperately needed some fluff, after the bleak and awful universe that is my Aspen Extreme.
> 
> And there are a few more chapters to go... don't worry, I won't keep you waiting forever this time.


	33. Immaculate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the riv suffers more indignities, Ray's shirt is ruined, Benny has a thing for eggplants, and Frannie swears in front of Ma.

Not to be upstaged by a cat, Frannie went into labour a week early. In the back of his riv. The first he knew of it was Ma saying, “the seat's wet.” Before he could say anything, Frannie groaned. 

 

“Ma... Ma, my waters just broke.”

 

“On the back seat?” Ray glared in the rear view mirror. “You've got that... that stuff all over my riv? Jeez, Frannie, you coulda warned me.”

 

“I didn't do it deliberately,” she snipped. “It's not like I ever had a baby before.”

 

“Okay, don't panic. At least we're in the car. Okay... hospital. We'll be there in half an hour.”

 

Which seemed like a reasonable assumption at the time. Unfortunately, not long after he had turned the car around they ran into a traffic jam.

 

“It's all right, it's all right... nobody panic,” Ray said, panicking. “I'll just back up and we'll go a different route.”

 

“I hate you,” she shouted. “I hate the riv, I hate the car I hate... ARGH! I hate you Ma!” 

 

“Hey, Frannie,” he snapped at her over his shoulder as he spun the wheel. He had every sympathy for her, of course, but why was she taking it out on their mother? “Dial it down a notch. It's not Ma's fault you got knocked up!”

 

“That's all right,” Ma said, soothingly. “I remember what it's like.”

 

“I know, you bee... bee...” Even in labour Frannie couldn't call her mother the name she was obviously thinking. She was huffing and sweating, and going red in the rear-view mirror. “You know what it's like and you never told me!”

 

Ray shook his head. That wasn't fair either. Ma had definitely regaled them all with exciting and gruesome stories of their births, and when he was a teenager she'd not been above reminding him that she spent thirty six hours pushing him into the world, so it wouldn't kill him to occasionally tidy his room. It used to annoy him, but seeing what Frannie was going through, he was beginning to understand where Ma had been coming from. It wasn't pretty...

 

Another contraction, and when Frannie had her breath back she was looking murderously at both her mother and her brother. “It's everyone's fault, because they never fucking told me it was this bad...” She paused to scream, and Ray tried not to shake. Frannie did not use the f word. Certainly never in front of Ma. Even he didn't swear in front of Ma... He took a moment of silent prayer to thank God from the bottom of his heart that he was not a woman. Frannie sucked in another breath. “And it's your fault because I hate men, and you're a man, ARGH... allegedly.”

 

“Okay, Frannie,” he said, and gulped. It wasn't her fault, after all. “You're doing great, just keep breathing...” In front of him a truck was blocking the road. “Oh, fuck,” he said, barely noticing that he had broken his filial vows and sworn in front of Ma for the first time since he was a teenager.

 

At least this time she didn't clip him round the ear.

 

By this point Frannie sounded like she was having a heart attack. When she got her breath back again she started bashing the back of his seat. “I... will... kill... you...” Her face went bright red, again, and then terrifyingly purple, and Ray fought a huge desire to puke. After this contraction, she just flopped back, and started crying.

 

“Honey,” Ma told him, “the contractions are very fast, we'll never get her to the hospital on time.”

 

“You mean the baby's gonna be born in my riv?”

 

“Either that or the side of the freeway. Come on, Son, stop the car.”

 

He had to stop the car anyway. That big monster of a truck was smack bang across the lanes. 

 

“Okay, Frannie, you're doing fine,” he said, babbling idiotically, because really, what did he know about it? He looked over his shoulder and...

 

Oh, oh, oh, God. Please let me go blind, he prayed as he stumbled out the driver's side, trying to scrub his mind clean, and pushing the front seats forward. Why did he have to look at just that moment? Why didn't he have a more practical car? A car with back doors, a big box of an ugly people carrier, a bus for the love of heaven...

 

Ma took Frannie's legs, and Ray hooked his hands under her arms. “Sorry Sis, sorry, sorry...” He really hoped he wasn't hurting her. Somehow he managed to slide her out, Ma following. Okay... now he had to figure out how he could get her comfortable on the front seats, because there was no way he wanted his sister giving birth in the middle of the road...

 

Frannie started screaming again, and this time her contraction ricocheted through him, and he stumbled backward on the tarmac. Frannie landed on his chest, and he managed to scramble up into a sitting position, and brace himself for her, so she had something to lean her back on as she pushed.

 

“Honey, darling,” Ma said, calmly, “you've got to stop screaming. Use that energy to get the baby out.” Frannie made an indescribable noise of utter fury and contempt, started huffing. From where Ray was sitting he could see tears rolling down her face. Ma patted her mouth. “Don't bite your lips, darling, or you'll need stitches. Open your mouth, like this.” Ma opened her mouth, and started to puff. Ray had a bizarre flashback... Benny and his puffin face. Ma glanced at Ray. “Give me a minute, son. We have her hospital bag in the trunk... I'll go get it.”

 

“Shush, Sis, don't cry,” he said, helplessly, as Ma trotted to the back of the car. “You're doing great, you are.” He'd heard Anna and Frannie talking a few days ago... girl talk, he'd thought at the time, and tried to ignore it, because why would he want to hear about labour? But Anna had said something that made Frannie smile... what had she said? Oh yes... “Hey, sis,” he said, “just remember... every time you push is one step closer to your baby being born. Bet you can't wait to see him.”

 

That seemed to help a little bit. Frannie smiled, then started to go red again.

 

Dear God, he addressed the heavens, I'm never having sex again. Because no way whatsoever would I ever ever risk Anna having to go through this.

 

“Hey there,” came a Texan drawl from behind and above him. “You guys need any help?”

 

Ray peered up, and saw the silhouette of a heavy set man looming against the sky. The guy had wandered over from the direction of the truck... he must be the idiot driver. It was his fault they were stuck here... what was he doing on the road if he couldn't even drive his damned truck? He fought the urge to yell obscenities at him. 

 

Calm down, calm down... 

 

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Top pocket... there's my cell phone. Can you ring Anna, then Benny, tell 'em my sister's gone into labour and to get their asses here as soon as possible.” Anna was at the hospital, and with any luck would be able to get an ambulance to them... though the way the road looked, that might be difficult... 

 

Shit.

 

And Benny... well, if he was here he'd know what to do. So, of course, did Ma... but Ray really wanted Benny.

 

“Sure thing,” the trucker said, “anything else?”

 

“Yeah...” Ray jerked his chin at the traffic that was building up behind the truck and the riv. “Could you stop that lot of fucking ghouls from gawping at us? 'Cause this ain't a spectator sport.” He didn't even want to be spectating himself. He wanted some great big bird to fly down out of the sky and pluck his eyes out.

 

“Yeah, I'll keep 'em back for you,” the guy said, and strode off down the road. “Keep back folks,” he said, “nothing to see here,” as though he was a cop, and not a criminally incompetent truck driver who had no business being on the road... 

 

Ma was back, unpacking stuff, and Frannie was still pushing, and sweating, and crying, but her screams had faded into growling moans, and she seemed weaker. Ray looked over her shoulder, and caught the expression on Ma's face. Worried. Ma was worried.

 

“She's gonna be okay?” He suddenly realised how scared he was.

 

Ma's voice was cheerful as she spoke, obviously for Frannie's benefit. “Oh yes, she's going to be fine. She just needs to conserve her energy.”

 

Shit. Frannie was not conserving her energy. 

 

“Hey.” The truck guy was standing over him. “I got your guy Benny on the phone. He says can he speak to Frannie.”

 

Ray grabbed the cell phone, still supporting Frannie with his strongest arm. Each contraction was taking it out of him as she convulsed against his chest. He could feel the tension shuddering through old scars. He hated to think what it was doing to her. “Hey, Benny... look, Frannie can't talk right now, she's...” he was going to say 'in a bad way,' then realised that she'd hear him. “Labour. She's in labour.”

 

“I realise that, Ray. I just need to say one thing to her.”

 

“Er, okay.”

 

Ray held the phone up to Frannie's ear and...

 

She smiled. Relaxed, and let out a sigh.

 

What the …

 

“Uh, Benny? What did you do? She's er... she's... er...”

 

“What, Ray? Is she all right?”

 

“Yeah... yeah. She's stopped crying.”

 

“Oh, good...” Relief radiated from the other side of the phone. “I was worried I'd done it wrong.”

 

“Done what wrong?”

 

“Ah, well, in preparation for the baby's birth, we've been doing some meditation, visualisation techniques, including hypnosis...”

 

“So what did you say to her?”

 

“Eggplant.”

 

“You said...” Ray stopped himself before he said it, in case it broke Frannie from her trance. “Well, that was stupid. What if Ma had made parmigiana, and asked Frannie to pass her the ingredients? We are Italian you know...” Shut up, Ray, he thought, you're babbling...

 

“Oh dear,” Benny sounded flustered. “I hadn't thought of that.”

 

“Hey, Benny, sorry... I'm just having a panic attack... Don't say anything!”

 

“What?”

 

“I mean, I don't want to find out you hypnotised me, okay? Just don't say mozzarella, okay?”

 

“I assure you I didn't...”

 

Stop talking, Ray told himself, say thanks to the man for helping us...

 

“Thanks Benny... She seems a lot better now.”

 

She did. She was still breathing hard, but less hysterically, and when she pushed there seemed to be purpose rather than panic behind it.

 

Ray shut his eyes with relief. Thank God he was at the top end. He didn't like the glimpse he'd just had of what Ma was doing.

 

“Are you okay, Ray?” Ah, Benny, he did sound worried...

 

Ray was about to respond when...

 

A thin little piercing noise gave way to a heart felt wail. 

 

Ray opened his eyes, completely forgetting to be grossed out, and there was Ma holding the ugliest most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Pink, and slimy, with bits of red smeared everywhere, a hideously quivering purple tube protruding from its belly and... and...

 

“Oh my God, Benny, I'm an uncle...” 

 

“You were already an uncle.”

 

“I mean again. I mean...” He'd never seen a baby born before.

 

“I meant to say congratulations, Ray,” Benny's voice was happy on the phone, and Ray wanted to hug him. Hug someone. Hug Frannie.

 

And hey, that's what he was doing... She was still lying against him, and had sweated right through the front of his silk shirt, and he was hugging her, and kissing the top of her hair. “Hey, Frannie,” he heard himself saying. Her face was upside down, but even though she was bright red she seemed to be in no pain at all, eyes shining and happy. “Hey, Benny,” Ray said, “how do you untrance her? She's still out of it...”

 

“Oh, no, I assure you, she's quite awake. Her signal to wake up was when she heard her baby cry.”

 

“So how come she's not screaming any more?”

 

“I imagine she's happy to meet her child.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray was shaking but happy himself. “Yeah, so am I.”

 

In the distance he heard the sound of a helicopter approaching. He looked up. Emergency air ambulance. He smiled. Anna had come through for them... And the Texan trucker had forgotten his post, and turned his back on the spectators to grin at the nativity scene, and people were leaning out of their cars and making a hell of a lot of noise... oh yeah. Cheering... And Ray wasn't in the least bit upset any more. Even if his sister had just given birth on the free way with God knows how many people watching, even if his clothes were ruined, even though he'd have to spend a fortune cleaning up the riv.

 

Frannie was holding her baby now, and Ma was covering her in a blanket. Ray's free hand was a little bit shaky, and he dropped the phone, but it didn't bother him. Benny knew they were all right. He stroked his sister's hair.

 

And there she was, Frannie and her baby, and she had him (him, a little boy) tucked up modestly to her breast, and he was making happy baby nuzzling noises. And Frannie... messed up, sweaty, scruffed up and dazed as she was...

 

Frannie was immaculate.


	34. Happy

Cathy looked like she was in heaven, stroking the baby's hair, and Fraser was pulling the most godawful face at the helpless infant in his arms. The first time Ray had seen it, he thought Ben was having some kinda episode. Vecchio just laughed, and informed him that the 'face' had something to do with puffins, and then compounded the weirdness by joining in. It was contagious. Ray had caught himself doing it, Cathy was doing it, and now every Vecchio child from the age of two up was doing it. The post baptism party looked like it was populated by well dressed blowfish. Right now Fraser and Vecchio were looking... well, fit for the funny farm, really. But everyone seemed happy enough. Baby Michael, snug in Ben's arms, had stopped crying, and was now lying there, gazing back up at the puffin monsters with big wide eyes, no doubt thinking, 'how the heck can I get away from these lunatics?' Ray was trying his damndest not to laugh. He was failing.

“Do you think he's all right,” Frannie, said, chewing her thumb nail. “I mean, I trust Frase, it's just...”

“Look, Frannie,” Ray said, finally calming down. His face ached with smiling. “Mikey's gonna be okay. Can you think of a better babysitter than Fraser?”

“Well, there's Ma...”

“And besides, it's not like they're going anywhere. I mean, this is Mikey's party, everyone's gonna want to cuddle him.”

“So long as he doesn't start crying again.” Frannie shifted uncomfortably, and glanced around the room, as though to make sure nobody was looking. To Ray's shock she started fiddling with her bra. “What?” She declared, catching his expression of alarm. “It's not like you're gonna care. You're gay. You're as good as a woman.”

“Good as a...” Jeez, Frannie and her foot in mouth. Ray laughed again, and tousled her hair. He should tell her that he wasn't gay, he was bi, and the sight of a woman (particularly one as well endowed as Frannie was these days) jiggling her bra was still distracting, but then... it would only freak her out. “Good as a woman. Whatever. I'll take it as a compliment.”

“Yeah? Well, it is a compliment.” She pulled a face. “Okay, so Ma was right. The cabbage leaves do stop the milk, but they're still uncomfortable."

Cabbage leaves? Milk? “Is this some kinda folk remedy I don't wanna know about? Or, like, a really disgustingly weird family recipe?”

Frannie looked at him, like he was the maniac in this conversation. “It's a remedy. Well, you don't really need to know it, I suppose. Unless you start laminating. Which doesn't seem likely.”

“You mean lactating?”

“Yeah, whatever. But let me tell you, if you're breastfeeding, these family things are murder. You try getting through a family do with all these crying babies, without oozing milk all over the...”

“Okay, Frannie,” Ray blurted out before Frannie could get any more graphic, “I love you, but that's enough girl talk. Okay, so I'm gay, but I've still got dingle dangles here, so stop with the breastfeeding jargon.”

Frannie had the decency to blush. “Okay.”

She looked so guilty that Ray had to think of something to make her feel better. “Just so you know,” he offered, “you can do the girl talk when Cathy's old enough to need bras and... er... all that girly stuff I don't wanna think about.”

“Cool.” Frannie perked up. “Hey, she can be Michael's big sister.”

“Well,” Ray looked at his daughter kissing Mikey's head. “She kinda already is.”

Frannie leant her head on Ray's shoulder. “She is, isn't she?”

“Hey, fake Sis?” Ray put an arm round her, and gave her a sideways hug. “You did good, you know. He's a beautiful baby.”

“Yeah,” she said, wistfully. “Takes after his Dad.”

Wow, Ray thought. First time she's mentioned him. Be cool... “So,” he said, casually. “Where is his Dad?”

Frannie didn't say anything for almost too long. Shit, Ray thought, he shouldn't have said anything. But then, Frannie sighed. 

“Afghanistan,” she said. “He... er... I didn't tell him. Thought he had enough on his plate.”

A soldier then. Figured... Frannie had a thing for men in uniform. Authority figures, maybe. Guys who could protect her... He remembered what he knew of Pa Vecchio, and tightened his arm around her. Frannie hadn't been protected as a kid, but he sure as hell knew she'd be protected now, what with him, Fraser and her brother. Poor kid. “So,” he said gently. “Mikey's father... he doesn't know he's a Dad?”

“No,” she looked at her feet. “Thought, you know... well. It doesn't matter. Mikey's got family. We'll be okay.”

Ray looked across at Vecchio, Ben and Cathy, doting on baby Michael. At his own Mom and Dad standing at the buffet table, eating canapés and chatting away to Ma Vecchio like they'd known her all their lives. At Father Behan, surrounded by groupies. And why was it, he wondered, that priests always had groupies? At least Father Behan did nothing to encourage them. He looked at the extended Vecchio clan, plus Elaine, who had got time off work, Welsh who was obviously enjoying his retirement, and the Duck boys, telling dreadful jokes to Frannie's cousins, who seemed to be laughing. (What the hell was the punch spiked with?) He could understand Huey's wife laughing at his jokes, but the Vecchiets hanging off Dewey? That was something to behold.

“Ooh,” Frannie perked up again. “Music's coming on. I'm gonna have to dance. Sorry, bro,” she stood up and kissed his forehead. “I'm gonna snag Father Behan before the Murphy sisters wear him down too much.”

“Mission of mercy then,” Ray grinned, and watched her make her way across the dance floor. He sighed, and closed his eyes.

Time was, when the music came on, it was himself and Stella first on the dance floor. Him and his fairy tale princess. Strange thing, really... he'd always love Stella, but he'd never thought the day would come when he wasn't in love with her. But yeah, it happened, and the memory of her didn't even hurt any more. She phoned up, occasionally, still talked to his Mom. She was doing okay... had met some new guy. And he wasn't in the least bit jealous. Wasn't pissed with Vecchio any more, was just kinda hoping that Stella would be lucky this time round.

He looked across at Fraser, and smiled. His feet tapped against the floor, but truth was... He didn't want to dance with anyone other than Fraser.

He sighed, stood, and crossed the floor. Sat next to Fraser, as close as he could without scandalising the party goers, and smiled at him and Cathy.

“You all happy?”

“Very,” said Fraser, and shoulder bumped him. “You want to hold Michael?”

“Oh, Daddy,” Cathy pouted. “It's my turn.”

“Hey, Hedgehog, don't be prickly,” Ray smirked. “It's my turn.” At the sight of her sad face (and yeah, he knew she'd figured out how to turn it on) he relented somewhat. “You can sit on my knee, and we'll cuddle him together.”

Cathy grinned, snuggled up on his lap, and somehow he, Fraser and Cathy all managed to cuddle Michael at the same time. Michael took it in his stride, smiled at them, blinked, belched, then slept.  
…

Anna smelled good. Ray slid his arms around her, and rested his cheek against her own. It wasn't really dancing... it was simply holding and being held. Moving, and being moved. He hadn't felt like this in... well, forever. Just... loved. Unconditionally. And loving, unconditionally. 

“You know,” he murmured into her hair, turning his face so he could smell her rose shampoo, “I feel like I've known you forever. Seems... just seems like I shoulda known you were out here somewhere.”

“Waiting,” she said, completing his thought. “Like I was waiting for you to come along.”

He stroked his hand along the curve of Anna's back, across the smoothness of her satin dress. Understated elegance, and easily the most beautiful woman in the room. The music stopped, and they paused in their dance, smiled at each other. 

“Ti amo,” she said, and put her fingers to his face, delicately. He kissed them.

“Ya tebya lublyoo.” 

Anna's eyes flashed laughter at him, and affection. “You're learning Russian?”

“Well, you're learning Italian, seemed I should return the favour.”

“My parents would have been pleased.”

“I'm sorry," he said, gently, "that I never met them.”

“They'd have loved you.”

“Yeah? Well, I'd have said, 'thank you.'” He paused. He was on the verge of getting soppy, and he wasn't sure quite what to say. He hugged her again. “I love you,” he repeated, in English this time. That was what mattered.

“You want to dance again?” Anna was smiling, holding his hands. For a moment he was about to say yes, then he glanced across. Benny and Kowalski were sitting side by side, watching the dancers, while Michael, finally soothed asleep, rested in his pram. Cathy was dancing with her Grandad, who had cleared a patch of the buffet table so he could hold her to his height. Everyone was dancing, Ma and Father Behan, Maria and Tony, Frannie and Willie, who looked like he wanted to escape, but couldn't look away from her cleavage. Ray shook his head, and resisted the urge to go put his coat on his sister. Everyone was on the dance floor, except Benny and Kowalski. Didn't seem right. Kowalski's feet were jigging, like they needed to be moving, and Benny was looking wistful, as he watched the other dancers. 

“You know,” Ray said, thoughtfully, “I'd love to dance with you again, but don't you think...” he jerked a thumb at his friends. “Tell you what, you take Kowalski, 'cause I love the guy, but I'm damned if I'm dancing with him. I'll take Benny. Let's scandalise the bridge club. What do you say?”

Anna laughed, kissed him on the nose. “So long as I get the next dance.”

Damn, he thought, watching her approach Kowalski. He loved that woman. He nearly laughed at the enthusiasm with which she dragged Kowalski to his feet. The man didn't stand a chance...

“Ray?” Benny looked up at him, looking somewhat bewildered. “What's happening?” 

“Yeah, I can see as how you'd be confused,” Ray smirked, “seeing as my girlfriend is dancing with your boyfriend... but we've got to get you on the dance floor, or Kowalski's gonna explode.”

“I... I can't dance with you,” Benny protested, as Ray took him by the hand and yanked him to his feet.

“You've danced with me before.”

“That was different...” Benny was blushing. “Everyone's looking.”

“Let 'em look. We're two handsome guys in fine suits. What's not to look at?” Okay, so it made him a little uncomfortable, but he put his arms around Benny anyway, and started to lead him into a waltz. Automatically Benny started to follow. Being Benny, though, he just didn't shut up.

“Yes, but... these are your family,” he objected. “They'll... what will they think?”

“I don't really care,” Ray lied with aplomb. He did care, a very little bit. The part of him which cared, however, was not a part he was very fond of, so he ignored it, the same way he ignored his father's voice when it reared it's ugly head. “Had to get you and Kowalski dancing. It's criminal for him to be at a shindig and not dancing.”

“Well,” Benny said, a smile sneaking through, “he's a wonderful dancer, but I've been informed, reliably, that I have the rhythm of a stick.”

“You're dancing okay now,” Ray pointed out. “And the next dance you'll do even better.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you'll be dancing with him. I want Anna back.”

“I'm sure that can be arranged,” Benny said, finally relaxing. “And... thank you.”

“Any time, Benny,” Ray said, smiling. So what if the Bridge Brigade were gawping and gossiping? Father Behan was smiling, as were Ma, and Kowalski's mom and dad. Most of the rest of the room were just enjoying themselves, and not particularly bothered who danced with whom. “Hey, time's up,” he said, as the song came to an end. “Go get your man.”  
…

So, Fraser did as ordered, and went to get his man. Ray was smiling. Sunny smile. Good Lord, it was good to see him smile. Everything about him was shiny right now, from his hair, to his eyes, to the light he spun around them as they danced together. Fraser leant into him, and moved. Moved with him. Let himself be moved. 

“You learned how to dance.” Fraser could feel Ray's smile, pressed up against his cheek.

“I had a good teacher.”

Ray's arm tightened around his waist. “Love you, Ben.”

Fraser's eyes squeezed shut. Ray had said it before, of course, but... Some people could say that, and not mean it. Not Ray though. If Ray said something, he meant it. Fraser had never once doubted him. His heart filled, and words failed him. He cupped his hand around the back of Ray's head, and kissed him. Right there on the dance floor, and Ray kissed back.  
… 

Cathy was sleepy, watching her Daddies dance. They looked handsome, in their good suits. Daddy was dark, like his hair, and Ray was light, like his. She had the handsomest parents there, she thought. She could watch them all night... but she'd probably fall asleep. Her eyes kept drooping. It was nice, she thought, to lie here, with her head on Frannie's lap, with Frannie's hand stroking her hair, watching her Daddies and listening to Mikey's snuffling sleep. She put her fingers in her mouth, and let herself drift. She knew lots and lots of words, but didn't really know the word for this.

“Oh,” she said, and smiled, just before she fell asleep. “I know.”

“Know what, honey?” Frannie's voice was a gentle caress, like a mother's voice should be.

“Happy,” Cathy said, as her eyes closed. That was the word. Happy.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Family memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153878) by [Vic32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vic32/pseuds/Vic32)




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